


Durin's Day

by RabidFangirlMutterings



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Military, Dystopia, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 126,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabidFangirlMutterings/pseuds/RabidFangirlMutterings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was a simple man of simple pleasures from District Shire. He enjoyed his tea, frustrating the Sackville-Bagginses, and the thrill that accompanied unraveling a bit of the mysteries of science. The world may not have been as marvelous now as it was in Gandalf's youth, but it was more than enough to keep Bilbo content. Which is why he can't fathom why he's been whisked away with a militant group called The Company set on ousting the dictator Smaug from District Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the culmination of efforts belongs to myself and to one Yerkillingmesmalls, who is my Tumblr-sister. You can follow our progress (as well as her amazing, beautiful artwork) by going here (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/). We hope you enjoy our work and encourage any feedback you'd like to gift us with!
> 
> For those of you wanting a bit of mood music, Lead Sails (And A Paper Anchor) by Atreyu is the theme music for this chapter.
> 
> (also, if anyone can let me know how to include pictures in posts here, I'll be more than happy to share Smalls' art with those of you who don't tumble)

The soft sound of bare feet on the stone path barely registered before the front door crashed open. It slammed closed just as quickly. Hidden away in his study, Bilbo Baggins continued to hold his breath until the soft sounds of a child fighting back tears could be heard.

 

 _Ah, Frodo. Of course, it was Frodo._ Releasing a breath, Bilbo tucked a slender blade – one he didn’t recall pulling free – back into its hiding place. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. _Really, who else had he expected?_

 

He saved the file he was working on and set his computer to stand-by – if the poor lad was as upset as he sounded, Bilbo wouldn’t be making any further progress this evening. The man stood with a soft sigh, gave his wrinkled vest a bit of a tug, and headed for the entry way.

 

A boy sat slumped at the foot of the solid wooden door, patched knees pulled up to his chest and wet face hidden behind his hands. Bilbo frowned. The knuckles of both the lad’s hands were red and raw, but the left side was a sight more scuffed than the right. He’d thought the boy favored his right hand, but it didn’t matter – not right this moment, anyway. Bilbo allowed his eyes to stray to the door for a moment and smiled to see that it was locked. He nodded. Frodo was a good lad, more often than not.

 

“Been fighting again.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t an accusation, either.

 

The boy gave a vicious start, but nodded up at Bilbo after a moment or two of silence. “Sackville-Bagginses,” as if that explained everything. And funny enough – it did.

 

Bilbo nodded in sympathy. There’d been more than a few times when he’d have liked to bruise his hands on the faces of a particular Sackville-Baggins or two. He felt a smile curve his mouth at the memory of the one time he did. Frodo blinked and then answered with a watery smile of his own.

 

“Come along, then. We’d best get you patched up.”

 

He pulled the lad to his feet and the pair of them made their way to the kitchen. A few supplies were produced and soon the man was tending to the boy’s hands. The lad was quiet as he worked and Bilbo allowed his thoughts to wander to another time, when he was patching up the bruised and broken hands of another young man, one with fairer hair and whose blue eyes had a bit more grey in them than the ones watching him now did. He recalled the light that was ever present in the youth’s smile and the unfettered joy that was sometimes a tangible thing when he laughed. Bilbo looked over the smaller hands now that he had finished bandaging them, but saw, in his mind’s eye, another set of hands – ones that knew work, honest and dishonest alike, but also knew hope and cheer. He closed his eyes in a moment of sharp grief. That child would’ve done great things, such great –

 

“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m sorry?”

 

It was Bilbo’s turn to startle. It wasn’t but half a moment before he remembered where he sat and who this solemn boy was, with his mop of dark hair and those bright, soulful eyes - eyes that used to sparkle with the possibility of mischief and glisten with false tears when the mischief was discovered. It wasn’t so much that the boy looked different, Bilbo mused, but that the air around the lad now hung with a bit more weight. The stubbornness, at least, he can recognize. The lad’s face was set in such a mulish expression, as if he expected to be told off at any moment and wanted to make it clear that he wouldn’t be regretting any of the events that led him here.

 

“Are you?”

 

“No.” His tone was vicious for one so young and there was a fierce light in his eyes.

 

Bilbo said nothing, but nodded and hummed a bit. He tucked the bandages and ointments away and returned to sit at the kitchen table once more. The boy was fidgeting, now, and there was an uncertainty in his eyes that showed that his resolve was fading in the face of Bilbo’s awaited response.

 

“What happened?”

 

The lad’s face crumpled with the simple question and his tears threatened to begin anew. Bilbo listened, patient and quiet, as the boy spoke of cousins, cruel words, and a fierce determination to protect the reputation of the man who had taken him in. Bilbo smiled a bit as the boy finished and a handful of sniffles were the only evidence of the lad’s distress.

 

“Aren‘t – aren’t you cross with me?” The boy’s eyes were wide with a mixture of marvel and apprehension.

 

Bilbo chuckled. “No. Do you want me to be?” The lad shook his head immediately. “I might wish you had handled it differently, but I will _never_ tell you to not defend what you hold dear.” There must’ve been an odd expression on his face as he spoke, because the look the boy gave him was intense. “You get a strong sense of a person’s character by watching what they’ll defend. And what they won’t.” He paused. “Keep in mind, though, there are only so many battles that we can fight at a time, and not all of them will be so obvious. Not all of them will be with others.”

 

The lad wore a bit of a frown now – a sign of confusion – and Bilbo was hit with a sudden, desperate need to explain things to the boy. “Every battle has a cost,” he tried to explain. “Whether you’re the one to see it, to pay for it, or not, there is a cost. You’ve hit a few of your fellows today, yes? They have a fresh set of bruises and your knuckles will be sore for a good while, and that’s part of the cost. My relationship with their parents will be tenser, now, too.” Guilt darkened blue eyes and Bilbo spoke quickly to sooth it. “That part is my own decision. Easily remedied with a social visit and apologies all around, but they wouldn’t have any meaning behind their words and I wouldn’t behind mine and I don’t imagine yours would ring true, either. I’ve found that I don’t have the tolerance for empty words and useless social visits, lately.” He shared a wry smile with the boy. “But, that’s part of the cost, too. There are many ways to fight a battle – with fists and pistols, with words and silence.” His voice broke on that last word, but at least his hands weren’t shaking. Not yet, anyway.

 

“Have I…” He looked down at his hands and pressed his lips together. There was no reason not to tell the lad – he was old enough to understand. “Frodo, have I ever told you why I stay in on Durin’s Day? Why the curtains are drawn closed and the mourning wreath is set on the door? Why you’re allowed to share a pint or two with me and we… we don’t take any visitors?”

 

The boy shook his head again. He leaned forward in his seat, hands in his lap now, and a child’s curiosity in his eyes.

 

 “Right, then.” Bilbo nodded and found himself licking his lips. “Well, it all started about seven years ago – you would’ve been just turning six, I suppose. The true start of it, the very beginning of it, would’ve been about thirteen years before that, but we’ll start with… yes, we’ll start with what happened seven years ago, first.”


	2. Talking to Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any day Bilbo can embarrass Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is a good day, in his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this one is Sleepsong by Bastille. Again, all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/

Bilbo took a step back from the table and looked it over with a critical eye. Every bit of its surface, aside from the inch or two surrounding each of the three place mats, was covered in food. He had plates of sliced cheeses and cold cuts, of course, as well as three sorts of bread. He had a handful of condiments at the far end, as well as some summer sausages, and a great bowl of fruit salad rested just beside a great bowl of potato salad. There was a bowl of crisps and a bowl of chips – no telling which his guests might have a preference for – and a jar of Mister Gamgee’s famous pickles. There was a basket of biscuits in the center of it all, but they weren’t as recently made as he’d like – he’d thrown them together yestermorning, after all. He preferred to be a bit more decadent with the food he served when he entertained, but he didn’t exactly have the time to correct that this moment.

 

Not the worst spread he could’ve managed. Bilbo nodded to himself. It would do.

 

He moved to the window to see how much had changed and let out a pleased huff.

 

 Across the street, not even bothering to be discrete in her gawking, was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins – _meddling, insufferable cunt_ – who was holding her vidcom up so that whatever poor soul was at the other end could see the current subject of her ire.

 

A fleeting glance might imply that she was upset with Bilbo Baggins, as it was in his direction the vidcom was pointed, and on any other day this might’ve been true. The rivalry between himself and the covetous old biddy had been around since they were both old enough to attend nursery together. On their very first day of classes, Lobelia had demanded the wooden frying pan that Bilbo had been playing with. He had explained, politely, that he was not yet done playing with it, but that she could have it after he’d finished. The brat proceeded to try to take the toy from him, so he let her have it – right across her face. Neither of them had forgiven the other since then.

 

Shaking himself from the memory, Bilbo shifted so that he could better see the actual subjects of Lobelia’s wrath … well, for today, at any rate. Two young men – _blonde and brunette and neither out of their teens_ – sat on the curb just a little ways down from Bilbo’s home. Their backs were to him, so he couldn’t see much of their faces, but they wore their hair long and their clothing was cut a bit differently. It was enough to mark them as strangers to Bag End Row, but not to Bilbo – not properly.

 

He had noticed that the two had taken to their perch just before luncheon, but now luncheon was almost finished and they still hadn’t moved on. There was nothing wrong with where they were taking their rest, of course. A public park flanked one side of Bilbo’s home, and at this time of day the shade from the trees reached all the way to the street and the breeze, if it was present, was known to be cool and sweet-smelling. Quite the pleasant place to catch one’s breath, if one was so inclined.

 

Lobelia, though, could not tolerate such actions. She seemed to be of a mind that having outsiders on her street was as scandalous as wearing socks with sandals - which meant that it was the local watch that Lobelia was harassing at the moment, the poor souls. Still, valid complaints or no, the watchmen wouldn’t be able to refuse her the courtesy of at least passing by, and who knew what sort of distress that might cause the two lads.

 

So Bilbo Baggins stood before the door of his home, gave his vest a bit of a tug and ran a hand through his sand colored hair. He frowned for a moment – _must visit the barber’s again soon_ – and shook his head at himself. He conjured up a look of amused exasperation and marched out his front door with a sense of purpose.

 

He approached the two boys directly and watched their reactions as he did.

 

The blonde noticed him first, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes moved up and down the street at a leisurely pace, but widened as soon as he caught sight of Bilbo. His lips moved soon after that, but none of what he said carried further than to his companion and Bilbo was not skilled in the reading of lips. The brunette – _in his mid-teens, perhaps a year or two younger than the blonde_ – rested between Bilbo and his friend, sprawled along the curb as if it were the most comfortable bit of grass in all of Middle-Earth. His eyes flew open at whatever it was the blonde said, but he nodded and didn’t bother to sit up until Bilbo was almost upon them.

 

The younger of the boys broke out into a playful grin – _knew he was cute, the bugger, and not shy about using it to his advantage_ – while the older of them offered a curious, if reluctant, smile – _worried about what sort of trouble they were about to get into and how difficult it would be to slip out of_ – as Bilbo slowed his stride. It was their eyes that gave them away, though, and only, Bilbo supposed, because he had so very many cousins, young and old alike, and was so very popular among them. He could see, for example, the slight tightness that they both wore in the corners of their eyes, as well as the way the two shifted just a touch closer together now that he was so near.

 

The lads had been living rough, then. He’d been hoping that it was just a bit of mischief they’d been up to earlier, when he’d caught sight of them in the markets, but it didn’t look to be so. It was enough to make anyone sigh and shake their heads at the injustice of things, but that would have to wait for later.

 

Bilbo waited until he stood before both the young men, a bit in the street, actually, before he planted his hands on his hips and gave the pair of them a look of mild reproach. He sent a brief prayer to the Valar that the lads were as quick of mind as they were of fingers and opened his mouth.

 

“And what is the meaning of this? You’ve given me quite a fright, I’ll have you know! I’ve had luncheon ready and waiting since a quarter to one and here you are, lounging in the shade without a worry in the world while I worry myself sick over the pair of you losing yourselves or, Eru forbid, finding injury on your way here.”

 

The sound of a door opening came from behind him, soon followed by brisk footsteps. Bilbo rolled his eyes skyward and smirked at the young men. He had just enough time to catch a hint of understanding in their eyes that might’ve been an answer before Lobelia’s shrill voice filled the air.

 

“Bilbo Baggins! You stay away from those two! They’re hooligans and who knows what they’re up to, lurking about our wholesome neighborhood so?” She came to a stop at the far edge of the street and narrowed her eyes at the boys as if they were infamous lawbreakers. “I’ve already called for the watch – they’ll be sending a patrol around and then we’ll have these delinquents out of here.” She sniffed delicately at these last words, as if even being in their presence was a traumatizing thing.

 

The brunette looked affronted at Lobelia’s rant, but the blonde’s eyes only grew harder. The sight of it gave Bilbo the feeling that, of the two of them, the older one was more likely to hold a grudge. He turned so that he could see his cousin, putting the young men more to his back than might be wise, but he made sure that he showed no hesitation with the action.

 

“You called for the watch?” He was sure to wear the particular expression that Drogo had assured him was just on the polite side of condescending. “Whatever for? Have you caught Lily Brandybuck’s tom-cat in your azaleas again?”

 

Lobelia’s eyes narrowed even further. “ _Whatever for_?! I just told you ‘whatever for’! These are ruffians and vagrants and criminals of the worst sort, I dare imagine! What other reason could they have for loitering about a peaceful neighborhood like ours?”

 

Bilbo arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. “You mean other than to enjoy a pleasant day? Or to take in the sight of the Bag End Gardens, the same ones that plenty of tourists have made their way to our humble street for? Or,” and here he cast another amused look at the youths, “perhaps they forgot the address they were given just two days ago and only remembered the street their gracious host lived on and the most distinguishing landmark that might have been mentioned with it?”

 

Both young men immediately offered protests, the brunette going so far as to offer a laughing “Of course we didn’t forget where you lived, Master Boggins, it’s only that _this one_ might have left the note you gave us in his pants pocket when he sent it off for washing and –“ and of course, the blonde only redoubled his protesting and made a show of foisting the blame back to the younger of the two. Excellent, they were both clever, then.

 

The quarrelling between the two – _and really, they bickered so easily and so well that if they weren’t related, they may as well be_ – was just loud enough that it overpowered anything else Lobelia might’ve offered in the way of accusation and lasted long enough that they were still in their stride when the watchmen pulled up.

 

The watchmen’s vehicle was recently washed, it seemed, as the soft grey coloring gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight, and the District Shire seal was in exceptionally pristine condition. In fact, the wheels of the vehicle didn’t seem to have any mud buried in the treads, either, and if Bilbo didn’t know any better…

 

“Watchman Bolger! Watchman Cotton!” Bilbo allowed his smile to stretch until his face hurt. “Is that a new vehicle that you’ve been assigned?”

 

Adelard Cotton, the younger of the two watchmen and still prone to swelling with complements, puffed out his chest and grinned in return. “That t’is, Mister Baggins. Only ten new watch-wheels ‘cross the whole of District Shire an’ d’you know that three of ‘em are staying right here in Hobbiton?”

 

“Oh, shut it, Cotton. No one likes a braggart.” Rowan Bolger made a disgruntled noise, but the sparkle in his eyes matched the one in his partner’s eyes.

 

Young Adelard made a sound of protest – _and he probably could’ve kept the pair of men here for hours, if he pleased, just listening to them go on about their new prize_ – but an ugly sound came from Lobelia’s direction and Bilbo thought it a wonder that she could still see anything, the woman’s eyes were squinted so tight. The watchman’s cheerful mood faded under her shrewish glare and he gave a bit of a tug on his uniform jacket, his face becoming quite a bit more stern as he turned to Bilbo’s horrible neighbor.

 

 “Ah, yes, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. What’s the trouble, then?” His tone was polite even if his words were to the point.

 

“The trouble?!” Lobelia sputtered, as if the reason she had summoned them should’ve been obvious to anyone with eyes. “The trouble is there, sitting on that curb, just waiting for us to look away long enough that for them to deface someone’s property or break into someone’s home to rob them blind! Why, we’re lucky we haven’t been assailed where we stand, each one of us!”

 

It was Bilbo’s turn to glare, now, and he leveled its full effects on the mad cow standing across the way. “Now, see here, _Madam_ ,” he barely kept a proper sneer from his lips and, distantly, felt his right hand twitch in want of his Assistant. “These young men are my guests. They are here at my invitation and I will not stand for listening to the slandering of their character by the likes of you, Lobelia.”

 

Lobelia sputtered again, but this time nothing intelligible was produced.

 

Still in their vehicle, the two watchmen seemed to be content with merely observing the pair – longstanding neighbors and rivals that they were known to be – assault each other with words. The elder of them seemed rightly amused with the whole event, but the younger of them seemed a bit more nervous after Bilbo’s retort and might’ve even flinched when Bilbo’s hand gave that twitch earlier, if watchmen could be said to flinch.

 

Watchman Bolger gave his own throat a bit of a clearing before he spoke, “’Scuse me, please, Mister Baggins, but you say these two young men’re your guests?”

 

Bilbo was no stranger to that look and that tone. Amused or not, Rowan wouldn’t be leaving until received a better explanation.  Bilbo nodded. “They are. Their parents were friends of my mother’s, rest her soul, and they got to Hobbiton not half a week ago looking for work – you know how things tend to be outside of the district – and have been having a horrible time of finding it. The lads here, well, they’re more than old enough to find mischief and still at that tender age when they’ll happily eat a person out of house and home, so of course I offered the lot of them quarter at Bag End. Their parents begged off, but they were more than happy to send their offspring home with me. I’m more than happy for the company – plenty of chores and repairs for them to keep busy with – but I’m still trying to work out if they’re repaying me for some sort of insult my mother might’ve slipped them, once upon a time.”

 

The younger watchman snickered from his seat, but the elder only hummed and gave the boys an assessing look. “Where’re they from?”

 

Bilbo rocked back on his heels and opened his mouth, but one of the young men – the older of the pair – beat him to speaking.

 

“District Ered Luin, Master Watchman.” The blonde’s tone was cautious, but courteous.

 

Watchman Bolger nodded, satisfied. Adelard seemed to be splitting his attentions between Lobelia and the two strangers, now that the threat of Bilbo’s wrath had retreated. Bolger continued. “And you’re certain you can handle the two younglings on your own?”

 

“Oi!” an indignant squawk came from behind him and Bilbo chastised himself for forgetting the presence of the two young men, even briefly. As it was, it took all his self-control to not jump at the sudden interjection. “We’re old enough to have as good as reached maturity –“

 

“Some of us have already reached maturity, thank you, kindly.”

 

“And we’re certainly not younglings!”

 

Bilbo said nothing but gave a partial turn and offered a raised eyebrow of his own at the pair, which seemed to cow them for the moment. Their acting was quite believable. He’d have to remember to insist they stay at least long enough for him to bake a proper treat for them before they went on their way – clever minds like theirs should be encouraged whenever possible.

 

Rowan hid his laughter with a bit of an indignant huff and shook his head. “Well, then.” He met Bilbo’s eyes briefly and chuckled again. “It seems we’ve not but a simple misunderstanding then.”

 

“You mean to say that you won’t be arresting them?!” Lobelia seemed to have found her words again – a most unfortunate event, in Bilbo’s opinion.

 

Watchman Bolger turned his gaze back to the Sackville-Baggins with a skeptical look. “Have you seen them doing anything I should be arresting them for?”

 

Bilbo thought that if Lobelia scowled any harder that her face would probably stick – of course, he also thought that no one would notice the difference, even if it did.

 

“They – they’ve been loitering! And – and – and they’ve been, oh what’s the word? They’ve been trying to figure out which houses to rob… casing! They’ve been casing all the houses up and down this street, have been all morning.” She gave a huff and another indignant sniff, giving the hem of her blouse a proper tug.

 

The watchman turned his gaze back to the two strangers, and the blonde shook his head. “No, sir, Master Watchman. We meant to arrive in time for luncheon, but we got a bit turned around with the numbering of the houses and thought we’d take a rest until we came up with a better idea for finding Master Boggins. We’d been resting about an hour, I think, when he found us again, mayhap it’s been closer to two now, though.” His tone was respectful, if a touch embarrassed.

 

Watchman Bolger nodded again. “There’s nothing wrong with the lads taking their rest on the curb, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, and I’d appreciate it if you gathered a bit more evidence before you went about accusing tourists of being criminals.” There was a hard glint to his eyes now and a reproaching tone to his voice “It’s folk that make accusations like that what’ve convince outsiders that we’re not but a bunch of fussy, intolerant homebodies.”

 

Lobelia offered another bunch of sputtering – this batch no more comprehensible than the last – and this was when Bilbo decided that perhaps the last word should be had by him.

 

“I am glad to find you here, though, Masters Watchmen.” He spoke to the two in the vehicle, but kept his gaze locked firmly on that of his despised neighbor. “You see I find myself missing a number of spoons, two forks and a butter knife. They’re made of silver, you see, a wedding gift my mother received that she was quite attached to, and I can’t recall when I used them since cousin Otho and Mrs. Sackville-Baggins here invited themselves to tea.” He paused and tapped a forefinger against his lip in mock speculation. “Say, Lobelia, you wouldn’t happen to have any idea of what could’ve happened to them, would you?”

 

Lobelia didn’t even bother with sputtering this time, only gathered herself together and scuttled back into her home, muttering something about the state of the District Shire watch and scandalous cousins.

 

The moment her front door closed, the two strangers-turned-guests burst into laughter and poor Adelard wasn’t far behind them, although he had the decency to look chagrinned after a stern look from Rowan. Rowan looked amused as well, though, even as he leveled an assessing look over the odd group – glancing over Bilbo first, and then the two strangers, before pulling his gaze back to Bilbo.

 

“I take it you’ll be taking responsibility for them, then, Mister Baggins?”

 

Bilbo nodded easily, as if the thought had not occurred to him that he wouldn’t. “Of course, Master Watchman.”

 

Rowan allowed himself a small smirk and, after a few minutes more of trading idle bits of gossip, the two watchmen left Bilbo alone with the strange pair of boys.

 

Once the vehicle was properly out of sight, and mindful that the whole of the neighborhood was likely watching their every moment, Bilbo turned back to his guests.

 

“Well,” he crossed his arms across his chest again and raised an eyebrow, although he didn’t bother trying to hide his grin. “Into the house with the pair of you, then.”


	3. Knowing Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The locals of District Shire are an odd bunch, but they're not all bad. Well, at least one of them isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this one is Better by Guns N' Roses. Again, all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/
> 
> WARNING: This chapter breaks 12k words on its own. We did not mean for the chapter to be so large, but felt that each of the 5 scenes needed to remain together. Treat this as you would any other large treat: enjoy in a relaxed setting, pace yourself and remember to take frequent rest breaks. *grins*

The strange man – Bilbo Baggins – led the way into the nearest of the strange buildings, and Fili led his brother as they followed. This Baggins-man had a sharp eye – _the only one in the market place to catch on to what they were doing_ – and a clever tongue – _the dressing down he gave that Lobelia-woman was inspiring_ – and, though he had kept the local lawmen from looking at them too close, there was no telling what a man with as quick of a wit as this one would want with them.

 

The man invited the two brothers into his odd home – _it was almost worth this whole experience to see the inside of the odd little under-hill dwellings_ – noting, with a sigh, that the paint on the door was chipped in places _– did he talk to himself like this often?_ – and asked the boys to make themselves at home.

 

The entryway of the place was cozy. A coat rack sat off to the right, with a shelf for keys beside it. A few sets of shoes rested against the footboard on the opposite side – _three pairs, the same size, all belonging to an adult male_ – but no artwork decorated either wall. The floor of the entry was tiled to look like cobblestones, but the hall beyond it was floored with a warm, rich looking wood.

 

The Baggins-man encouraged them to leave their shoes at the door, but didn’t linger to ensure that they did – continuing on to the curving hallway and through an open archway to the left, instead.

 

Fili took the moment to share a questioning look with Kili as they slipped off their shoes. Kili only grinned and shrugged as he did the same, but he did glance back at the door that had been closed behind them. Fili did as well. The door wasn’t locked and it didn’t sound like there was anyone else in the house. It was promising – but of what, Fili wasn’t sure just yet.

 

The two boys moved, quick and quiet, to catch up with their host and it was good that they did. The entry hall seemed to be the only hall the underground home had. The archway led to a formal sitting room, which led to a more comfortable looking den, complete with fireplace and cozy armchairs, and that led to a dining room. Knick-knacks decorated every flat surface in sight, along with a handful of semi-flat surfaces, and most looked like the quaint sort – _not worth more than a smile_ \- but here and there came the shine of something more precious and it made Fili’s fingers tingle to know that such treasures were within such easy reach.

 

Kili gave him a sidelong look, a smile and a quick flexing of his fingers, but Fili shook his head and clenched his right hand into a fist for a moment. They wouldn’t take anything, not yet. They’d see what the stranger wanted, and if he demanded too much – _if his kindness was false_ – then they’d let their fingers roam, but until then they’d wait.

 

Fili came to an abrupt stop at the entrance of the dining room, or, to be more accurate, at the sight of the food on the table. There was sandwich material and chips and crisps and all sorts of other side dishes. Kili came to stop beside him a moment later and became still with an unnaturalness that came from cautious surprise. It wasn’t that they’d never seen such a bounty of food before – _he was ten and it was the Harvest Feast and everyone was there and they were all so happy_ – and it wasn’t like they were starving, either – _they’d eaten at least twice a day since leaving home, had to, Mum knew when they were lying_ – but it was a lot to take in. Fili’s eyes finally left the food long enough to scan the rest of the table, the rest of the room. Placemats set out – _enough for the Baggins-man and two others_ \- several stacks of paper arranged in tidy piles along a side table, another archway – _were there no doors in this place?_ – that led to what sounded to be a kitchen, and the Baggins-man standing – _on the far side of the table, now_ – giving the two of them an amused, but not unkind, look.

 

“Well, go on and have a seat, then.” The man indicated the chairs in front of them and took a seat himself.

 

Kili was looking to Fili again, all bright eyes and raised eyebrows, a brief pressing of his lips together and rocking back on his heels ever so slightly. Fili let a corner of his mouth curl upward, but let his eyes flicker to the right for a moment, shifting a touch closer to his little brother as he did. They had eaten this morning and while there was no definitive plan for dinner, it wasn’t a situation they were unfamiliar with and he’d rather not presume the food was for them. If the Baggins-man offered, they’d eat – _no sense in letting good intentions go to waste_ – but until then, they would say nothing.

 

They both took seats across from their host, and Fili was careful to make sure not to scrape the chairs across the wooden floors. Their host smiled at them and cleared his throat.

 

“I’m sure you overheard already, but I’m Bilbo Baggins and I’m pleased to be your host.” He said this with a deep nod of his head.

 

“I’m Kili,” his younger brother spoke first, voice bright and cheerful.

 

“Fili,” he added. He paused. “Were you expecting company?” He kept eye contact when he spoke, but spared a brief glance for the food, to indicate the cause of his question. Being in a strange place, with one stranger, was one thing – being in a strange place with an unknown number of strangers to arrive at an unknown time was something else entirely.

 

The Baggins-man smiled, and it was genuine, if mischievous. “I was, but now that my guests are here, I’m hoping they’ll join me in eating.”

 

Kili’s hands twitched. It was the only sign of how eager the boy was to dig in and wasn’t a movement that would be visible from across the table. The two shared another look. It only took a blink on Fili’s part before they were filling their plates with sandwich makings and crisps and chips and potato salad and some other sort of amalgamation that looked a bit like potato salad, but was sweet – _incredibly sweet, must be some sort of dessert_ – and, of course, the biscuits.

 

For long minutes, the only sounds to be heard were of the three of them eating. Fili tried to make sure that they didn’t take too much. They didn’t want to seem half-starved and they didn’t want to come over as rude, either, but, most importantly, they didn’t want to abuse a kindness. If the Baggins-man was kind enough to feed two pick-pockets he didn’t know from mice in the field, then there was a chance he may be kind enough to feed them the last of his food. It was hard to hold back – _harder for Kili, though, who didn’t have as many memories of times when their belts weren’t tight_ – but they kept their portions modest and tried to remember their manners. The first time the basket of crisps was emptied, though, their host only stood and made his way to a door – _a pantry door_ _, first door Fili’d seen in the place_ – and then returned with another bag of them, which he proceeded to empty into the basket. The bread was replaced with fresh loaves as the three of them worked their way through the feast and the supply of meats and cheeses seemed to be never ending as well.

 

The Baggins-man finished eating before Fili and Kili did, but didn’t seem bothered that they continued to eat. He refilled his ice tea and offered to refill the drinks the boys had as well – _which they accepted, but trying to avoid speaking with their mouths full was a tricky bit of business_ – as he watched them.

 

Finally, they slowed down. Fili was uncomfortably full and he was sure his brother was as well. There would be stomach pains later, but he had no regrets - it had been a long while since the two of them had been well and truly stuffed. It had been a long while since the two of them had been well and truly stuffed. He knew, by the warmth in Kili’s eyes and the open smile that he wore now, that the Baggins-man had won his little brother over rather thoroughly, but Fili was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The food was good and plentiful, and he was grateful for it – more for Kili’s delight and the fact that there were fewer shadows on Kili’s face – but every mercy had a cost, and he’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t nervous about what the price for this one would be.

 

“You’re the man from the market the other day,” Kili spoke.

 

This was a good tactic for the pair of them. Kili spoke, keeping his words playful and obvious, while Fili had a chance to observe – to see what wasn’t being spoken and to get a better feel for the situation.

 

The Baggins-man nodded and sipped at his drink. “I am.”

 

Kili glanced at Fili, then back to their host. “You saw what we were doing?”

 

The Baggins-man nodded again. “I did.”

 

“Why didn’t you call the law on us, then?”

 

The Baggins-man paused – _taken off guard, but good at hiding it_ – and took a breath before replying. “I did such things when I was your age.” He looked down at his drink, then back up, splitting his attention between the two boys. “I didn’t have a need for the things I took, just the thrill that came from taking them. I had thought that it might be the same for you.”

 

Kili shifted in the chair next to Fili, and Fili bumped their elbows together in a move that their host wouldn’t notice. The Baggins-man seemed the kindly sort and while Mum didn’t know about how they got a good portion of their funds and food – _told them she’d never ask as long as they never told_ – it still pained them to think of what she would say if anyone told her.

 

The Baggins-man was quiet, too, and there was a tightness to his eyes now, but his smile was still genuine. He shifted and spoke again. “So, what brought the pair of you to District Shire?”

 

_Ah, changing the topic, then._ Kili bumped Fili’s foot under the table and Fili nudged his knee in response.

 

“Actually, your tale-telling wasn’t too far off, Master Boggins.” Fili hoped that the Baggins-man realized that his brother was just being playful. It’d be a terrible shame to have made such a generous friend only to lose him over a bit of teasing. Luckily, their host looked more amused than annoyed. “We came with our uncles, looking for work. The folk of District Shire don’t seem to have much work for those who aren’t out of their teens, though, so we’ve taken to wandering about so as not to be too bothersome while our uncles do what they can.”

 

The Baggins-man nodded. “Hiring younglings to work is highly frowned upon in District Shire, and our children aren’t considered adults until they’ve reached twenty years.”

 

Kili’s face scrunched up into a scowl, but it was only partially for show. As the youngest, he’d been fighting their whole lives to be viewed as something more than a child, and to be told that, in this district, at least, the threshold for maturity was that much farther away? Fili fought back a smile.

 

The Baggins-man seemed to suspect the reason for Kili’s protesting as well. “Is the age of maturity that much lower in other districts?”

 

“In most it’s seventeen or eighteen, and in some it’s fifteen,” Kili returned, wearing a grin once more.

 

The Baggins-man nodded and seemed to consider this. He spent several minutes looking at the pair of them with an assessing look that reminded Fili sharply of his mother’s brother – _he should be in Bree at the moment, shouldn’t he?_ – before he nodded again. “I don’t know your situation, and I won’t pretend that I do.” He paused, the first bit of uncertainty showing on his face. “My home is rather large for just myself, and there are plenty of rooms that aren’t used. If you don’t have a safe place to sleep, then there are beds here you may use – assuming your uncles approve, of course.” He paused again, this time with a calculating look. “Sleeping is free, and this meal is free, but if you’d like to share further meals with me – which I would be more than pleased if you would – then I ask that you pitch in around the house. There are more than enough chores that I find myself too lazy to do, if you like.” The smile their host wore was an odd mix of welcoming and self-deprecating with those words. “As for working for money, no one here will hire a youngling.” He paused. “But I have more than a few neighbors who’d be willing to financially compensate a young man or two who’d be willing to help with some of their more bothersome chores.”

 

Fili and Kili shared a confused, almost suspicious, look. “But you just said no one would hire us,” Kili’s words were slow now, and Fili felt his body tensing.

 

“No one will hire you for a proper job, that’s true,” the Baggins-man nodded, an amused look in his eyes. “But nobody cares for doing chores, and it’s a well-known fact that the doing of chores builds character in our younglings. The trading of chores done for spending money is wide-spread in District Shire, as learning to manage their own finances early also builds character in our younglings, and I imagine that two young men willing to work hard could make a fair bit of money, if they were so inclined.”

 

Kili turned to Fili in a move so quick that the older of them was surprised that the younger hadn’t given himself a crick in his neck. The want in the younger man’s posture was obvious. Fili couldn’t blame him – the idea of a warm bed, three meals a day and the ability to make some proper money was very tempting. Fili was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the moment, but it wasn’t an opportunity they could really afford to pass up. They’d have to be careful around their host – _until they knew him better, at least_ – and they’d have to let Balin and Dwalin know where they were, but it looked to be a good deal all around.

 

Fili smiled and turned back to the Baggins-man. “That front door of yours did look like it could use another coat or two of paint.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“No! You’re stretching your words again – you must be!”

 

Kili grinned. This story was well known throughout District Ered Luin, but unheard of here in District Shire and while he may still be a bit young, he was more than confident that he was the best spinner of this particular tale.

 

The young man pulled his hands out of the soapy water and placed both palms over his heart, ignoring the suds and water drippings that made their way down his shirt front as he did this. “I swear to you, on my honor and on the divine mercy of your scones, that every word is fact.” He punctuated his words with a bit of a bow and ignored the pained sigh that came from his right.

 

Master Boggins gaped and looked from him to Fili and back – _he was the best audience that Kili had ever met_ – and sat his cup of tea down on table at which he was seated. “But Rhosgobels are _armored_.”

 

“Yes, they are.” Kili agreed, ignoring the elbow suddenly placed in his side. He’d get back to the dishes in a moment – he was having too much fun watching Master Boggins fluster over his words.

 

“You’re telling me that Fili, that responsible, respectful young man right there, took one of the fastest, strongest armored scouting vehicles on the market and –”

 

“Totaled it – completely. Yes.” Another pained sigh, but Kili could hear the smile he was hiding behind it. “Starting the engine only produced the most pitiable of whines. If it’d been an animal, we’d have had to shoot it.” Kili paused for dramatic effect. “And that is why Fili is not allowed to drive – under any circumstances – ever!” He gave a nod and turned back to the dishes.

 

Fili made a sharp movement that drew Kili’s eyes up to his and scowled at him. "I will _end_ you."

 

Kili blinked. His brother must have been practicing his impressions, as he was channeling their mother's brother quite well this time. Quite well, but not well enough.

 

Kili let his eyes widen and took a half step back, pressing his lips together tight for a moment before splashing some of the rinsing water at his brother. Fili let out a squawk of a sound in protest and promptly splashed Kili back. This led to a minor war of splashing - _more of a bit of a skirmish, really_ \- which ended with Fili’s skillful deflection of Kili’s final attack and his prompt counter attack, which left Kili with a face-full of dishwater.

 

Kili laughed, trying to get the worst of the wet out of his eyes before the sting of the soap set in. He could hear his brother's chuckles – _a breathy sound that meant safety and warmth_ – but by the time he got his eyes clear, the chuckling was gone and Fili's smile was fading. There was tightness in his older brother's eyes as he looked at their host and Kili felt a heavy weight settle in his gut.

  
The mess – they had made such a mess! There was more water on the floor and dripping from the two brothers then there was left in the sink, thanks to their antics. Here they were supposed to be helping Master Boggins and instead they were watering his kitchen...

 

Kili sent a quick glance at where their host still sat, only to find him smirking.

 

"I don't know why the two of you are giving me such a look - it's not as if I'm the one that'll be cleaning this mess up."

 

Kili released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and felt his smile return. It wasn’t that he expected anything overly harsh from Master Boggins – _although he wielded that damned wooden spoon with an accuracy that had to be unnatural_ – but Thorin was their mother’s brother and if he’d caught sight of what they’d done, he’d have yelled them into next week and demanded the mess be cleaned yesterday. Thorin loved him and Fili, they both knew that, but he was more used to soldiers than nephews, as their mother had explained so long ago, and did not always realize that they were not the same thing. Master Boggins wasn’t even family and had no reason not to be cross with them making a mess of his usually tidy kitchen, yet here he was smiling at them as if he’d have done much the same if he’d been standing in either of their places and was further tickled to think that he wouldn’t have to clean up the results of his entertainment.

 

Master Boggins gave the two of them a significant look and motioned to the linen closet with a nod of his head.

 

Kili saw his brother heading in the correct direction from the corner of his eye, but didn’t feel compelled to follow him, not just yet. Fili paused, midway through his second step and turned to the younger of the brothers - tugging gently on a lock of hair when Kili didn’t meet his gaze right away. Kili gave his older brother a hesitant smile, weaker than he’d have normally worn, and lifted both his eyebrows a touch. Fili furrowed his own, but gifted Kili with a smile that was both small and gentle. Fili looked back to Master Boggins and rolled his eyes, wearing a smirk now, and huffed his way to the linen closet on his own.

 

“Is everything well, then, Kili?” Kili like how simple and honest Master Boggins’ own body language was. His voice was soft, but firm - as if to provide comfort and reassurance at once. His hands had tightened a bit around his mug and he was frowning some now - _his confused frown, not his thinking nor his displeased frown_ \- but, again, there was no anger or frustration present. Not for the first time, he admired how quickly the man seemed to adapt to the two brothers and the odd way of communicating they had.

 

“Yes, well enough,” he finally answered. He opened his mouth to ask a question, some why or another, but the wording of it fled almost immediately. The whys of it didn’t matter. Master Boggins had taken them in - _had trusted them, knowing they were pickpockets and maybe worse_ – and he treated them like family. The whys... they suddenly weren’t so important. He gifted his host with a cheeky smile, suddenly. “Quite well, actually, truth be told.”

 

Master Boggins blinked several times, rapidly, before he answered with a smile of his own. “Well, then - I suggest that you march yourself to the nearest towel and dry your person before my floors are wet enough for the neighbors to think they’ve been mopped.” He motioned again toward the hall Fili had disappeared down not moments before.

 

“Aye, I suppose I should.” Kili let his smile soften and again he placed the palms of both hands over his heart before bowing deeply. “By your leave, then, Master Boggins.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Fili smirked from where he sat at the table, connecting his vidcom - _a small, slight thing meant for communication while travelling_ \- to his host’s portable cpu, which currently rested on the dining room table. He turned his face into the crook of his arm and feigned a sneeze, but felt Kili shift his gaze to him from their host and had to feign another sneeze so that the poor Baggins-man didn’t think he was laughing at him.

 

“Now, honestly, Master Boggins, you know how Fili and I stretch our words! Mother isn’t even half as terrifying as we’ve let on - so there’s no need for all this fretting.”

 

The Boggins-man made a rude noise behind Fili, where his brother and the man stood speaking. The older of the two was mixing another batch of his mouth-watering scones so furiously that both brothers were worried that he was beginning to regret his decision. “I am _not_ fretting.”

 

Fili pushed back from the table and turned to his companions just in time to see not only Kili’s ill-fated decision to try to sneak a taste of the yet-uncooked batter, but also to see - _and hear_ \- Bilbo’s famous “Assistant” - _a horrible implement made of oak, yet stronger than steel, formed into the shape of a kitchen spoon_  - land across Kili’s knuckles in retribution for the attempt. Kili yelped and clutched his hand to his chest, but was careful to keep any expression related to a scowl or a sneer away from his face. The Baggins-man was not to be back-sassed, after all, by neither action nor spoken word. Kili did manage to sneak a mildly indignant look at his older brother, but Fili had no sympathy for him. The Baggins-man had made the rules of his household quite clear when they agreed to stay as his guests and, among them, was that there was no partaking of uncooked batter, unless it was to lick the bowl or spoon clean and only if offered the chance by their host.

 

Kili huffed, scowling down at his hand. “Well, it’s easy to think otherwise.” He muttered.

 

Bilbo paused in his mixing for a second time and arched an eyebrow at Kili, face otherwise blank. “Is it?”

 

Kili’s eyes widened and he took a step back, his muscles tense, but only in preparation for quick reaction. Uncle Dwalin had prepared them for many a scenario in which their lives may be endangered, but none of these had covered an opponent who was so surprisingly agile or armed with a weapon as deceptively innocent as his dreaded spoon.

 

Fili grinned, enjoying the peril his younger brother called upon himself, and opened his mouth with the intentions of teasing said brother, when a single trilling note startled the three of them from the mock-tension that had filled the room. He looked at the screen of the portable and felt his own eyes widen. Then he said a word that he knew his mother wouldn’t approve of.

 

“ _Fili!_ ”

 

Evidently it was a word the Baggins-man didn’t approve of, either.

 

The eldest of Dis’ sons was saved from a scolding from their host, though, by his younger brother, who understood what sort of danger that tone mixed with those words could mean. Kili crossed the room, stopping at Fili’s shoulder to see the source of the older brother’s distress and while he couldn’t see it, Fili almost felt his younger brother flinch when he realized what was on the portable’s screen.

 

“Is everything okay, boys?” Bilbo’s voice held a cautious, quiet note of concern, but it wasn’t until the sound of the mixing bowl being set on the counter top reached him that Fili was able to tear his eyes away from the foreboding screen.

 

“It’s mum,” Fili tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry for it. “We haven’t checked in with her in a...” a quick glance to Kili only received a shaking head. Damn, how long had it been since they last spoke with her? “In a little while and she’s left us a few -” here Kili let out a rude snort. “A few... messages.”

 

Bilbo frowned, finally setting his Assistant down. “And these messages, they’re not so good?”

 

Fili opened his mouth to try to struggle out a response when the screen of the laptop changed and the speakers let out a chiming noise that, had Fili not been in a state of utter terror, he might’ve thought was rather relaxing. Kili let loose a strangled sound and was on the far side of the room before Fili was able to catch hold of him.

 

“Get back here, you coward!” He hissed.

 

Kili, safely standing behind the Baggins-man now, shook his head violently. “You’re the oldest, you’re supposed to protect me!”

 

Fili sent another fearful glance at the still-chiming screen before turning his gaze back to his only hope. “This is mum! There’s nothing to protect you from! Besides, you’re the baby - she won’t be mad at you!”

 

“That’s a load of shite and you know it!” Kili snarled back, ignoring the Baggins-man’s sound of protest. “Besides, you’re the heir, and I’m just the spare...” he opened his mouth as if to add more to his argument, but let his voice trail off, eyes wide and filled with an expression that lay somewhere between apprehensive and apologetic.

 

Twice more, the chiming sounded, ringing louder than it should have in the otherwise quiet home, before Fili clenched his jaw and nodded. Fine, he was the oldest - _the mature and responsible one, obviously_ \- he would answer the dreaded call. He sent one last glare at his younger brother - _there would be retribution for that comment later, and of the very worst sort_ \- before he took a bracing breath, schooled his features into a more appropriate expression, and clicked to receive the call.

 

“Mum! You’re looking lovely, as always! We were just about to call you!”

 

“Oh, were you? Wonderful! I suppose I should have exercised a bit more patience, then, hmm? After all, weeks of silence can be quite refreshing and I have been assured, by others, that the two of you were still alive and whole. What possible reason could a mother have for feeling concerned for her only two sons?”

 

Even as he winced, Fili felt a familiar warmth flood through him at the sound of his mother’s voice and the sight of her face on the screen - _her skin wasn’t as pale as it had been before they’d left, but there was a tightness in her eyes that made his heart clench_ \- soothed an ache he hadn’t even known he was carrying. She was sitting in the living room, in the good armchair, and was stirring something - _probably tea, it was almost all she drank now_. She was wearing the grey cardigan - _the one that made her eyes look more steely_ \- and her red knit scarf - _the first one Ori made for her_ \- and she looked absolutely regal. He wondered if the fireplace was lit, if she was warm enough, if she was hurting again - but he knew to hold off on those questions, for now at least.

 

“I’m sorry for that, Mum - you know how the tech is here, you can’t get a wireless connection out of the district for a king’s ransom.” His face hurt, he was smiling so wide, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from soaking up every detail of her - _of home_ \- that was on the screen. “That and time managed to slip away from us, again.”

 

The look she gave him was mildly amused and thoroughly unimpressed. “Oh, yes, of course, darling. It must have been my other two sons who were clever enough to access District Dunland’s full array of pornographic channels without letting the locals know.” She paused to sip from her tea, but didn’t look away from the screen. There was laughter sparkling in her eyes now, which meant that her words had been carefully chosen and that she was fully aware that they were a guest in someone’s home. A quick glance at the Baggins-man showed him wearing an expression caught somewhere between proud and indignant. Kili was standing very still and communing rather urgently with the ceiling. “They certainly wouldn’t have neglected their mother for so long.”

 

“Ah, yes - well.” Fili struggled for a few moments to find the appropriate words to appease his mother, before giving it up for a lost cause. “I’m sorry, mum. We both are.”

 

The change was immediate - her posture relaxed, her eyes softened and her smile warmed and, for a moment, Fili was so homesick that the pain was almost too much to bear.

 

“Speaking of your younger brother, where is he? You haven’t sold him to any traveling circuses just yet, have you?”

 

“No, not yet - I haven’t found any that would take him in, not even if I paid them to.” His mother’s laugh was accompanied by the sound of Kili’s noise of protest and soon enough his younger brother was standing at this shoulder again.

 

“Hey, mum.” Kili, always so loud and boisterous otherwise, somehow managed to become almost timid when speaking with their mum over the vidcom. If Fili ever noticed how his little brothers eyes took on a wet shine after, and sometimes during, each call, he never mentioned it. “‘M sorry, about the not calling, or writing. We didn’t mean it.”

 

“Oh, loves, it’s alright,” her expression softened even more and Fili could almost feel her eyes searching them for whatever it was that mothers were always searching their children for. “Just an old woman fussing over the last and greatest of her treasures.”

 

Kili made an inarticulate sound of objection, even as Fili shook his head. “Don’t say things like that, mum - you’re not old.”

 

Mum set her mug down and readjusted something in her lap. “Well, I’m not exactly as young as I used to be either, am I?” Her smile turned mischievous. “I can see the two of you are eating well, though, and getting enough sleep. Good. Which poor soul are you eating out of house and home, then?”

 

Fili spoke again. “That’s why we were on our way to calling you, actually. We’ve met a very kind local, a Mister Baggins, who’s been generous enough to share with us a place to sleep and a few meals a day -”

 

“We do chores to help out, though, and help to fix up the place for him,” Kili jumped in.

  
Fili was so used to Kili’s interruptions that it was rare for him to notice them anymore. “And he’s even put in the good word with some of his neighbors so that we can make some money of our own.”

 

Kili nodded. “We’ve made a nearly a hundred credits so far, between the two of us.”

 

Fili felt his face flush and looked away from the screen. They should’ve earned at least that in a week, each one of them, with proper jobs. “No one will hire us,” he explained. “The age of maturity is twenty, here.”

 

Mum made a sound, somewhere between a coo and a sigh. “All’s well, my gems - you’re doing the best you can with what you’ve been given, and that’s where the importance lies.”

 

Fili glanced back up and there was understanding in his mother’s eyes, along with an undercurrent of what could’ve been pride. Fili felt his smile return a bit.

 

“Well - Anyhow, he gave us the idea that it might be nice for you to meet him - said he thought it might help you worry a bit less if you knew where we were and who we were bunking with.”

 

“He sounds like a wise man. I’d be happy to meet him.”

 

Fili nodded and gave his mother another smile, before turning to beckon Bilbo forward. The bowl he’d been mixing still rested on the counter and, for a moment, Fili thought he saw a flash of anxiety in the man’s eyes, but he set down his spoon, ran a hand through his hair and gave a tug on his vest - _that had been an oddity at first, that he wore a vest in the privacy of his own home, but now it was just another thing that made the Baggins-man who he was_ \- before he made his way over.

 

Kili shifted behind Fili’s shoulder. “I love you, mum,” his words were still soft but there was a bit more smile to be heard in his voice now.

 

“I love you, too, my treasure.” If mum’s eyes were shining particularly bright, no one made mention.

 

Kili pressed a hand to Fili’s shoulder momentarily and Fili glanced up, caught sight of Kili’s slight nod, and nodded himself. “We’ll, uh, we’ll be nearby.” Fili spoke to the screen that held his mother’s image. It was a silly thought, but, for a moment, moving away from the sight and sound of his mother was enough to choke the words in his throat. He cleared his throat with a cough and gave her what was sure to be a watery smile. “Love you.”

 

Mum answered with one of her own. “You’ve done well, boyo, you both have.” She shook her head, but her smile remained. “I’m proud of you.”

 

Fili nodded, not trusting his voice and moved out of the chair. The Baggins-man stood closer now than Fili expected him to be and he put a comforting hand on Fili’s shoulder.

 

“The pan’s greased and the batter’s mixed, would you mind helping your brother finish with getting the scones into the oven?” His voice was gentle, but not so soft that it wouldn’t be picked up by the portable-turned-vidcom.

 

Fili nodded again and spared a grateful smile for his host before moving into the kitchen proper. Kili stood in front of the oven, sliding what looked to be a second tray in, and balancing two more full trays on his left forearm as he did. Fili rolled his eyes, but didn’t move to interfere. As soon as the trays were in the oven, Kili turned around and gave a pointed glance to the bit of wall on either side of the kitchen doorway. Fili nodded. A door would’ve been more preferable, easier to hide behind, but they were adaptable. Kili moved toward his older brother, scooping up the bowl and the ever-feared Assistant along the way, but scowled when Fili snatched the bowl away as soon as he was in reach. Fili arched an eyebrow and mouthed the words “you’re the heir, I’m the spare” and the scowl collapsed into a pout.

 

That matter settled, the pair of them darted to crouch on either side of the archway that connected the dining room with the kitchen and listened.

 

“Baggins, I believe I’ve heard that name before.” That was mother’s voice, of course, but it was a bit warmer than she usually used for talking to people outside the family - she must be pleased that the Baggins-man was treating them so kindly. That was good, Fili nodded to himself and scooped up a bit more of the scone-batter that still lined the edges of the bowl, Mum had a sharp tongue when she wished.

 

“My father’s family is quite prominent,” the Baggins-man nodded. He was wearing what Fili had learned was his polite-welcoming face. He was still nervous about all this, then. “Rather well respected in the community. In fact, I do believe the thain before this last one was a great uncle of mine.”

 

“Oh? And your mother’s family?” Was Mum pressing the Baggins-man for information?

  
“Ah, the Tooks.” The Baggins-man’s smile curled into something a good deal more roguish. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. The Tooks are well known throughout the district, and especially here in Hobbiton, as a rather disreputable bunch - prone to adventures and all sorts of other mischief.”

  
“Are adventures looked down upon so much in District Shire, then?” She was!

 

“For the most part, yes.” Was the Baggins-man aware of what mum was doing? He’d mostly dropped the polite face, now, and the smile he wore was much closer to the one he had when he and Kili told their stories. “Most Shirelings never set foot outside their hometowns, let alone leave the district’s borders. It’s a dangerous world out there and there are many of a mind that to go off exploring it is to invite danger to our doorstep.”

 

Mum hummed in response. “And how did two such different people as your parents manage to come together?”

 

Kili, across the way from him, cringed and sent Fili a pained look. Fili grimaced and nodded.

 

But the Baggins-man didn’t seem to take offense. “Well, both of my parents had their fair share of suitors - mother was quite the beauty and father held quite a bit of political influence locally. The way my father told it, he overheard my mother laugh one fine spring day - didn’t see her, just happened to pass by at the right time to hear it - and he was helpless to see any other lass ever after. My mother told it a bit differently. She insisted that she first noticed him when she caught him eavesdropping on her when she was picnicking with her cousins. She said that she knew he was a keeper, though, when she realized that he never tried to stop her from leaving on yet another of her adventures.”

 

Fili frowned momentarily. The man kept using past tense when speaking about his parents... and he hadn’t mentioned them at all before mum asked. Had they died already, then?

 

Soft laughter came from the laptop, mixing with the Baggins-man’s chuckles. “It must’ve been quite the scandal, then, for two families so different to join together?”

 

The man’s eyes were on his hands, now, which were currently resting in his lap, but he nodded. “Oh, yes. Partially my doing, though.” His eyes sparkled and the smile he wore was somewhere between proud and self-depreciating. “The wedding was a small affair, but the reception was one of the biggest ever held in Hobbiton. And then I arrived, not three months later.” He let out a soft bark of laughter. “The Tooks didn’t pay any mind, as my parents were properly in love and had managed to get through the ceremony before I showed up, but the Baggins’ were quite offended. In fact, I’m not sure they’ve forgiven me for it yet!”

“Oh my!” It was good to hear so much happiness in Mum’s voice. It was also nice to find out a bit more about their host.

 

Fili went to scoop a bit more of the batter from the bowl and frowned when wasn’t able to. A quick glance down confirmed he’d cleaned the bowl out. He let out a soft huff of disappointment, echoed by Kili, who was still sucking at the wooden spoon, although Fili imagined it had long since been cleaned of any taste as well.

 

“Is your family quite large, then? I’ve heard tale that Shirelings like to grow their families as large as they grow their gardens.”

 

The Baggins-man shifted a bit, his eyes glancing away from the screen momentarily. “Ah, I’m afraid not. I was the first, last and only child my parents were blessed with. I did have my mother’s assurances, though, that I was more than enough mischief to make up for it.” His grin grew brighter for a moment, though his eyes looked at something in the distance. He cleared his throat. “What of you, though? The boys speak of you and their uncles often - you must come from quite the large family, yourself.”

 

The change in topic was a bit abrupt, but mum knew when to avoid a tender subject. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s all in how you count them,” she managed to sound pleased and exasperated at once. “I have one brother by blood, who is off in Bree, last I was informed, and nine others by choice - two of which should be in Hobbiton.”

 

The Baggins-man nodded. “Balin and Dwalin? The lads mentioned they’d found jobs in the city proper - Balin as some sort of legal assistant and Dwalin as a... body-guard, I think?” The man frowned and looked off the side, forcing both boys to duck out of sight.

 

“Well, I’m glad they’re keeping someone informed of the family’s goings-on,” Mum’s reply was tart.

 

The Baggins-man laughed, a quiet, huffing sound. “I’m sorry that they’ve worried you. I should’ve thought to have them call you sooner.”

 

“Oh, it’s no fault of yours, Mister Baggins. You’ve been more than generous already,” there was a pause in her voice, one that almost sounded hesitant. “In fact, I’m not sure I can thank you enough for how caring you’ve been to my boys. Really and truly.”

 

Fili, using all the caution and stealth that Nori had ever drilled into him, peered back around the corner. The Baggins-man was wearing a bit of a blush now, but his smile was warm and gentle. “It’s been no trouble, I promise. They’re good boys, both of them - hard working and obedient, when they’ve a mind to be.”

  
Mum’s laughter rang out again – startled out of her, by the sound of it. “‘When they’ve a mind to be’ - isn't that the truth? Tell me, how did my two rapscallions manage charm their way into your home?”

 

“Well, they did me quite the favor, actually,” and the glint that the Baggins-man wore in his eyes was more sly than Fili had ever seen, even in Kili on his most impish days. Their host proceeded to share the tale of their meeting - _he had suspected a long-held rivalry, but had no idea that the hatred shared between their host and the Sackville-woman ran so very deep_ \- which brought mum to a fit of laughter and giggles. “And so,” he finished, “as a reward for providing me with such a fine opportunity to publicly embarrass the cow, I fed them a proper lunch and told them that I had beds aplenty for sleeping in and more than enough food to share with anyone who could make themselves useful.”

 

“Well, I’m glad that they’ve been making themselves useful, then.” The sounds of mirth lingered in mum’s voice.

  
“Oh yes, I should think so.” The Baggins-man nodded and there was silence between the two of them that stretched on for a moment or two, but it didn’t seem strained. “I suppose I should check on the scones - if any of the batter managed to make it into the oven that is.”

 

“Don’t hold your breath,” mum answered. “I used to have to make a double batch of dough if I wanted half a batch to make it out of the oven.”

 

The Baggins-man answered with a sharp, but still playful smile. “Oh, not in this house - the boys know well enough to keep their fingers to themselves here.”

 

Mother laughed again. “Well then, you’ll have to share your secrets with me, Mister Baggins, for you’ve managed to do what eleven others could not.” Another pause. “Well met, Mister Baggins, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

 

“And the same to you. I’ll send the boys back in, if you don’t mind. I’d like to at least let the scones cool a bit before they’re inhaled and I don’t imagine it’d be too much of a hardship for them to visit with you a while longer. Oh, and please, call me Bilbo, Miss... I’m sorry, I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name.”

 

“Dis. Just Dis.” Mum’s voice was softer than it had been before. “And again, thank you.”

  
“No trouble, I promise,” the Baggins-man murmured and then he was rising from his chair and moving toward the kitchen.

  
In a desperate burst of speed and dexterity, the two boys managed to put themselves at the sink before their host made it to the archway, but, by the look on his face, he was well aware that they’d been listening in.

 

“Go on,” the Baggins-man grinned at them. “I think it’d ease your mother’s heart if you spoke with her more.”

  
Kili was gone in a flash, but Fili hesitated a moment and met the man’s gaze. This man… Did he understand how much this meant to them? How grateful the three of them were for all the little kindnesses he kept offering and especially of how he kept acting as if each one were no big thing? The Baggins-man held Fili’s gaze, though, and, after a moment or two, a lopsided smile grew.

  
Kili nodded. Maybe the Baggins-man did understand, then - a little at least.

 

Dis’ eldest son moved into the dining room, then, eager to join his mother and brother in conversation again.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

  
“You said it was where?”

 

Master Boggins still had his eyes fixed to a book of his own and it was a moment before he looked up. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

 

“The book? On coding? For computers? That you said Fili and I could look at?”

 

Master Boggins blinked, slight confusion clouding his eyes for a moment before they cleared. “Oh! Yes, of course. If it’s not on the bookshelf next to the globe, then it should be on top of my desk - I might have been using it to tinker with some of the programs on the desk top unit.”

 

“Ah, right, then.” Kili nodded, offered him a grin for the information, and made his way back to the study.

 

Fili was still going through one of the bookshelves - one the younger of the pair had gone through twice already - but glanced over when Kili entered the room. He paused in his search and raised both eyebrows. Kili nodded to the appropriate bookshelf and then to the desk. Fili nodded and moved to the bookcase in question. Kili shrugged and made his way to the desk.

 

He cringed when he saw the stacks and stacks of paper that populated the surface of the desk. If there was a book here, there’d be plenty of places for it to hide. He allowed himself a bit of a huff and got to work, carefully sorting through the piles so that he didn’t disturb their order while being as thorough as he could. It wasn’t but maybe five minutes later that he caught sight of something he never would’ve expected to find on quiet Master Boggins’ desk.

 

“Psst.”

  
Fili looked over right away and, with a jerk of Kili’s head, made his way over to the desk just as fast.

 

Carefully, Kili moved a handful of papers onto the desk’s chair, and tapped the ones that lay beneath. Fili answered with a sudden stillness.

 

Resting beneath Kili’s fingertips were a handful of blueprints and no small number of notes focusing on how to access and best use energy sources. One particular energy source was mentioned more often than any the others: Mahal.

 

Kili looked up and met Fili’s gaze, wondering if his brother’s eyes were as big as his own.

 

Since they were wee younglings, the two boys had been told stories of their True Home. District Erebor had once been a proud, thriving district. It was rich in knowledge and in culture and people would come from as far away as District Lindon just to lay eyes on its library. Information of almost any sort could be found there, but the district’s greatest treasure lay deep within the heart of the mountain.

 

A clean, seemingly-unending source of energy lay waiting beneath Erebor’s lone mountain, and some claims estimated it would’ve been enough to power every district in Middle-Earth. Those who found the treasure called it by the name of an ancient god from times long passed: Mahal. Nearly a third of the district’s population, as well as numerous others across Middle-Earth, spent uncounted hours laboring toward a way to harness and wield the energy source and many of Erebor’s neighbors had invested time and money in the effort to make tapping into it a viability.

 

No bird may fly, though, without jealous eyes watching from below.

 

The newfound wealth and power had attracted the attention of those with more selfish intentions, and while District Erebor was confident in its defensive strength, it was not ready for the machinations of Smaug and his private army. Smaug had just enough allies in just the right places that, in a single night, his legion of sell-swords had brought the mighty district to its knees. With a third of its people slaughtered and another third cowering in their homes, the remains of Erebor’s population scattered to the winds.

 

No proper burial was allowed for those citizens who had lost their lives that night - not that anyone outside of the district had heard tell of. No aide came to those trapped behind walls that used to defend them - not from any people, not from any district. The little mercies gifted to the refugees from districts that had claimed to be allies were not enough to keep the weakest of them from perishing in the harsh winter that followed their exile.

 

Mahal was a word, a name, which the two boys knew quite well. It was lesson and a warning folded into one story. Your enemy will not allow you time to prepare for his strike, it taught. Your allies will not heed your call when your hour is most desperate, it promised.

 

The locals they’d encountered on their travels each seemed to have a different spin on the story, but all boiled down to the same thing: The people of District Erebor had reached too high, and in doing so they brought their fall upon themselves.

 

It made Kili burn with a rage he didn’t understand to hear strangers speak of their home – _of their tragedy_ – so casually and callously, and he knew that Fili felt the same because the people that spoke so were the same ones the two took everything from when they searched for proper marks in the streets.

 

But what did Master Boggins have to do with any of that?

 

He frowned and chewed at his lower lip, glancing from the papers to his older brother and back.

 

Kili was moving away from the desk before Fili could motion him away, and crossed the room, instead, to keep lookout by the door - Master Boggins could step lightly when he wanted to, inconveniently so, at times.

  
He disguised his efforts by pretending to sort through a small collection of notebooks and loose papers that was on what could’ve been a side table. He felt horrible for invading Master Boggins’ privacy, of course, but anything related to Mahal was dangerous, a poison to be evaluated and tolerated only if it was for the better good. The fact that their host had some sort of tie to the horrid thing was...

 

Kili shook his head. He wouldn’t worry himself with what it might mean, just like he wouldn’t allow himself to think that kind Master Boggins meant them any harm by knowing about it. Master Boggins was a good man, the only one Kili knew of that existed outside his family - and Kili would continue to believe this until Fili told him otherwise. It made his chest ache to do anything else.

 

Soft footsteps approached from behind him. A glance back showed that their host’s desk had been returned to its natural state and that Fili held the book they’d been seeking in the first place. His older brother’s eyes were tight and his brows raised a touch, but the corner of his mouth curled upward into a bit of a smile. He stepped out of the room and Kili followed.

 

Fili went back to the den, but only lingered long enough to let Master Boggins know that they were going outside to read. The man seemed pleased with this and cautioned them to avoid too much time sitting out in the sun - _he was always fussing, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t endured worse than sunburns before_ \- to which Fili promised that they’d take care to sit in the shade.

 

Fili turned back to face him and, at first, Kili didn’t understand the touch of sadness that flickered across his brother’s eyes, but then he felt his cheeks begin to ache and realized he was smiling again. Mum didn’t like that particular smile - _it made her looked so pained and defeated_ \- even though she always told him he was so brave when he wore it. Fili didn’t like it, either.

 

Kili forced his face to relax and Fili gifted him with another smile, tugging on a stray lock of the younger brother’s hair as he passed. The older brother led them through the back door and over the low wooden fence that separated Master Boggins’ back yard from the community gardens. The two of them had discovered a hidden nook, far from the prying eyes of any tourists who might wander by and even farther from the harsh gaze of any locals in the area, as they rarely seemed to take the time to enjoy the gardens they lived so close to.

 

The boys tucked themselves away and sat across from each other, knees touching. Kili didn’t bother to hide his shifting and fidgeting, ready to burst with wanting to hear of what his brother had found.

 

“Old research. Some new ideas, but nothing dangerous. Nothing bad.”

  
They lapsed into silence again and Fili huffed before pulling Kili over, not stopping until the younger brother was sitting with his back to the older. Fili’s hands were in Kili’s hair in less than a moment, braiding the wild mess of curls into order before undoing his work and starting again. It was a nervous habit, but the motions of it soothed the both of them and Kili found it easier to keep his worried-grin from returning.

 

“Have to tell Thorin.” Fili spoke again, barely a murmur.

  
Kili tensed and didn’t stop himself from making a low, worried sound in his throat.

  
He felt a bit of motion behind him that meant Fili was nodding. “We’ll wait. It’s his turn next, anyway.”

  
Kili huffed, but felt the tension drain from him all the same. Thorin was fierce, in many senses of the word, but he had a tendency to gather as much information as he could before acting - with things related to Mahal and their True Home, at least. If they waited until he took over their care, it would be easier – _and safer_ – to tell him about what they had found. It would also give them the opportunity to stress to their mother’s brother how generous Master Boggins had been and how harmless he surely was, even if he did know of the thrice-damned ball of energy.

 

It was the best they could do, anyway.

 

Kili shifted, trying to settle into a more comfortable position. Fili rewarded his fidgeting with a not-so-gentle tug at his hair and he groused softly. He felt behind him, blindly, and managed to grab the book they’d loaned from Master Boggins from Fili’s lap, and while his brother’s fingers went back to their soothing motions, he read aloud, softly, about the language of computers.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“And do you have everything packed?”

  
“Yes, Master Boggins.” It was the tone, more than the title, that startled the Baggins-man into looking up at the pair of them and, though he huffed, it was a gentle smile that he fought to hide. “Same as the last dozen times you’ve asked us.” Kili’s smile was wide as he spoke - _too wide for comfort_ – and his voice was showing strain.

 

Fili twitched to run his hands through his little brother’s hair, but settled for running them through his own, instead. They were leaving soon - as soon as Balin and Dwalin arrived in fact. They had new, sturdy rucksacks, as well as a whole collection of new clothing, thanks to the kindness of their host - _good quality, he shouldn’t have spent so much_ \- and the Baggins-man was boxing a second batch of his mouthwatering scones even as the three of them conversed. The man was distressed – _it made his chest ache, made Kili hurt as well_ \- but there was nothing for it. They had to go.

 

“Well, I know how absent-minded the two of you can get when you’ve the will to be.” The Baggins-man finished tying a simple knot in the string that bound the two boxes together and rested his hand atop the package for a moment. “Now, you must promise me that you’ll let me know when you’re back in the district. Even if you’re not able to stay for any sort of visit, I can at least bring you a nice picnic and maybe, if you give a fellow enough warning, another box or two of scones.”

 

This had Kili’s smile relaxing into its proper shape. “Oh, you’d best make it at least two - they seem to disappear nearly as fast as you plate them and I’m not entirely certain the boxes will be good enough protection against them evaporating into the ether.”

 

“Into the ether?” The Baggins-man gave Kili a sharp, incredulous look, before looking to Fili as if to see if he’d heard correctly. “Into the ether?!” He gave a snort and chuckled to himself. “Yes, my scones have been ‘evaporating into the ether’ quite frequently of late, haven’t they? Those and the rest of my pantry.” He shot a sly grin at Kili.

 

Kili puffed up, as if he’d received some sort of complement. “Well, the pantry’s a different matter entirely. Obviously, some of the food in there was in danger of spoiling. It was our duty as gracious guests to help you finish it off before it turned.”

 

The Baggins-man nodded before casting a shrewd look at Fili’s younger brother. “The whole lot of it?”

 

Kili shrugged. “Well, couldn’t risk someone putting down the wrong expiration date on any of them, could we?”

 

The Baggins-man let out a bark of laughter. “Is that so? I suppose I have much to thank you for, then.” He moved to begin putting the dishes away - those that had dried while the pastries were baking - but Fili beat him to it. Fili gave his host - _still his host, for another few moments, at least_ \- a cheeky grin and began to return the cutlery and crockery to their places. The Baggins-man just nodded and held up his hands in defeat.

 

Fili made short work of the chore, tossing bits and pieces to Kili when the younger of the brothers was closer to the appropriate cabinet. The Baggins-man fussed and scolded, but the brothers were sure not to let any piece drop and there was no heat to the man’s words. Fili stopped, though, when he came to the final piece. The tool was nothing more than a wooden spoon - _oak, hand carved, well worn_ \- but the very sight of it in the hands of the Baggins-man was enough to make poor Kili sweat... and perhaps Fili, as well. After they left, though... Fili could admit to himself that he, at least, might miss the wretched thing a bit.

 

Instead of voicing this, though, he gave a sly glance at the Baggins-man and then caught his brother’s eye. “At least your hands will be spared another scolding from the Assistant.”

 

Kili’s eyes widened and he nodded solemnly before the Baggins-man laughed again. “Oh, I wouldn’t hold your breath. Your mother’s been trying to pull that scone recipe out of me for the past month,” - Kili’s eyes widened even more and Fili swore that his heart stopped for a moment - “and while I haven’t given it to her yet, I have promised her that if I do, I’ll send her a fine, Shire-crafted mixing spoon to stir them with.”

 

Kili made a choked, scandalized noise and his face was caught somewhere between want and betrayal as he looked from Fili to the Baggins-man and back, struggling to find the falseness in the Baggins-man’s words.

 

A noise came from the front door before Kili found any reassurances, though - three booming sounds, as if someone were trying to knock the door down with fists alone - _Dwalin’s knock, better not have chipped the paint_.

The Baggins-man startled at the sound and the merriment drained out of the room. “Well, I suppose I should see who that is, then.” The tightness was back in their host’s eyes, and in his shoulders. Fili felt the ache in his chest return, as well.

 

As soon as their host had slipped out of sight, Fili gave a sharp motion of his head in one direction. He didn’t wait to see Kili moving before he took the other. The pounding at the door had sounded like Dwalin’s, but that was no guarantee that it was, and with as many different pathways through the house as there were - _a brilliant defense strategy, Thorin would approve_ \- it was a fairly simple matter to shadow the man up to the entryway.

 

Fili watched as the man looked through the peep-hole - _had to stand on his toes to do it, it was a funny thing to watch_ \- then frowned and smoothed out his vest, before reaching for the door - _which was unlocked, again, the fool_. The Baggins-man startled once the door was opened, but then Dwalin seemed to have that effect on locals.

 

The giant of a man filled up the doorway, shoulders nearly as broad as the frame and head just low enough that he wouldn’t have to duck to keep his head from hitting. He was bald - _by choice, of course, rather vain about shaving it smooth_ \- and he was wearing his traveling jacket - _black, leather, thick, wool lining_ \- along with some denims and a set of working boots. If Dwalin was filling up the doorway, then Balin couldn’t be too far behind. Fili’d have to remember to scold Dwalin later for deliberately scaring the Baggins-man, and Balin for letting him.

 

“I - I’m sorry, can I help you, sir?” The Baggins-man kept a firm hand on the door - _should’ve worked with him more on security, on how to read others and take down the unwelcome_ \- but his words were as polite as they’d ever been to strangers, despite the stutter.

 

Dwalin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “‘M here for the lads.”

 

Whatever nervousness the Baggins-man had seemed to flutter away with these words, leaving bit more steel in his expression. “I’m sorry, but who?”

 

Dwalin smirked - _and how rare was it the big lout of a man to give out praise like that?_ \- and nodded his head. “Fili and Kili,” he kept his voice low. “Sons of Dis.”

 

The Baggins man nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider. “Oh, of course. You would be Mister Dwalin, then? You’re certainly large enough to match the description. Please, come in and I’ll fetch them.”

 

Dwalin shook his head. “No time.” His eyes moved around the hall and Fili stilled rather than pulling back. The giant’s eyes lingered on a door frame across the hall from where Fili hid and Fili found himself rolling his eyes at the idea that Kili was giving himself away so readily. “Need to get moving.” Dwalin finished his thoughts at last.

 

“Oh, right then.” A flash of pain passed over the Baggins-man’s eyes and his lips pressed together momentarily. It only took a moment for the man to pull himself together, though, and he smiled, again, even if it was a bit forced. “Just a moment then.” He nodded and turned to face the hallway, but before he could even open his mouth to call for them, Kili had flung himself from his hiding spot - _the same damned doorway that Dwalin had spotted_ \- with a burst of speed and an ecstatic cry.

 

“Dalin! Bwalin!” Kili flung himself at the giant, his pet names for their uncles falling easily from his mouth, and started talking a thousand miles a minute - describing their adventures and their host and their host’s home and everything that they’d learned. Dwalin grunted with the impact of catching him, but didn’t release him from the hug, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes sparkled madly.

 

Fili took a more dignified approach and simply stepped out of the shadows. Dwalin’s eyes went to him immediately, and he received a nod for his efforts. Fili watched his brother’s antics a few moments longer - _had the Baggins-man allowed Kili those extra sodas to spoil him while he still had the chance or to punish the ones who were taking them away?_ \- then caught Dwalin’s eye again and gave a jerk of his head toward the back of the house.

 

“Our things,” he mouthed.

 

Dwalin nodded.

 

Fili turned to look at the Baggins-man, offered him a soft smile, and raised both eyebrows.

 

The Baggins-man answered with a smile of his own. “Of course I’ll help.”

 

“At least I know where the two of you have gotten your ‘talkative’ natures from, then.” The man quipped, once they were out of hearing.

 

Fili laughed and made his way to the den to grab their bags while the Baggins-man moved to the kitchen to fetch the scones. The two made their way back to the front door – _he wanted to warn about keeping trinkets out where wandering hands could slip them away, but if his advice was heeded it wouldn’t the Baggins-man’s home_ – to see that Dwalin had dragged Kili from the doorway and down the path a little ways and that Balin was now standing in the doorway.

 

“I’m sorry for my brother’s manners, he’s never been one for unnecessary words.” Balin offered the Baggins-man a warm smile and handshake – _the man had a good sense of balance, the boxes didn’t wobble once_ – before beaming at Fili. Fili watched as the wise man’s eyes flickered over the new bags and saw the questions that would be asked after the lot of them left. “Do you need help with that, lad?”

 

Fili shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got it.”

 

He watched as the Baggins-man passed over the two boxes of treasured food to Balin, with explicit instructions to not allow the boys to eat them all themselves, and certainly not in one sitting, as well as with the advice that they made for good bribes. Fili made an insulted sound, but it was done in jest.

 

Finished giving his directions, the Baggins-man turned back to Fili. “You be careful, now, the both of you.” The older of Dis’ sons gave the man an indulgent smile and the Baggins-man huffed and shook his head. “I know that you take care of each other, but I’ll worry myself over you scoundrels.”

 

Fili nodded and tried to look contrite. “You shouldn’t. It’s not like any of them will let us out of their sights for long.”

 

The Baggins-man raised a single eyebrow in dispute. “You mean like in the markets.” Fili had the grace to blush, but not enough to stop his grin. “Just, remember to eat and be careful of ...” here the man glanced at Balin momentarily. “Be careful of where you practice your hobbies, yes?” He paused again and looked away a moment. When his gaze returned to Fili’s again, his eyes were suspiciously bright. “And if you have need for something - anything at all, either of you - you send word and I’ll find a way for it to reach you, okay?”

 

Fili felt his throat tighten dangerously, so he nodded rather than risk speaking and, on an impulse, stepped forward to hug the man who had been so kind to his brother and him. The Baggins-man tensed a moment in surprise, but returned the embrace after a moment. The pair of them were nearly knocked to the ground another moment later, though, and Fili knew that his younger brother’s arms were wrapped around them both.

 

“Don’t fret, Master Boggins, we’ll write!” Kili’s voice was bright and full of laughter and promise. “And we’ll vid-call you so much you’ll beg us to leave off!”

 

“You’d better,” the Baggins-man’s smile was watery, but still present as the three of them disentangled. “I’ll hold you to that, the both of you.”

 

Fili only nodded again, unable to say anything else. He caught Balin’s eyes again and if the older man had been showing hints of curiosity before, he was nearly overflowing with it now.

 

The Baggins-man took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, off with you, then. I’d hate to make the lot of you late for anything. Wouldn’t be proper.”

 

Fili nodded and nudged Kili over toward the bags. He clapped the Baggins-man on the shoulder once more before picking up his own and moving to where Dwalin waited for them closer to the street. He didn’t have the heart to tell his host - _former, now_ \- that vid-calls were difficult to make when they were always on the move. He didn’t tell him that sometimes money was too tight to afford eating three times a day and that their hobby wasn’t really so much of a hobby as it was a necessity. He didn’t say any of that, but when he glanced back to the Baggins-man’s eyes, he thought the man knew anyway.

 

Balin finished whatever formalities it was that people fond of words – _they should’ve had Balin over sooner, the two would’ve talked the sun down and back up again_ – engaged in while he tossed his bags - _carefully, didn’t want to scuff the new bags so soon_ \- into the trunk of the vehicle. It took a moment to realize that Kili was no longer talking a thousand words a minute and the strangeness was enough to tear Fili’s gaze from watching the Baggins-man closing his front door - _and didn’t that make his chest twinge something fierce_ \- to where his younger brother was standing, almost unnaturally still.

 

He brushed their elbows together and raised an eyebrow. Kili turned to him, grinning like a madman - _and didn’t that promise something fun?_ \- and glanced to where Dwalin and Balin were conversing quietly, then to the tires of the vehicle, and then to the Lobelia-woman’s home across the way. The Lobelia-woman was standing in the front window of her home, scowling as if the four of them had gone stomping through her precious gardens...

 

Fili’s eyes widened and he turned to Kili, only to find him nodding. Fili let his head fall back and laughter poured out of him. Kili joined him and Fili felt some of the ache in his chest lighten.

  
“Come on, old men,” he called. “Let’s get going, then!” He waited until the two men came closer and dropped his voice a touch before continuing. “Just one more thing before we leave, though. Do you see that garden, just across the street?”


	4. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected visitors aren't always unwelcome ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Empty House by Delta Spirit. And remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual.

District Shire - _and Hobbiton, in particular_ \- was a rather unexciting place.

 

That wasn’t to say that it was a dull or dreary place, full of tall, impersonal buildings and the cold, blank faces of strangers who didn’t care to know your name, nor was it a stale or stodgy place, where social formalities were followed as if they were laws and anything different was looked upon with disdain. No, District Shire - _and Hobbiton, in particular_ \- was simply a place where exciting things did not occur. Interesting things sometimes happened, and amusing things were quite the frequent sight, but things that could truly be called exciting just didn’t happen.

 

Except, of course, for the one time they did.

 

Bilbo sat on a wooden bench - _fashioned by two sets of hands that were better suited for mischief than they were for crafting_ \- and recalled the handful of months - _five years ago, now, how had so much time passed?_ \-  when excitement came in the form of two foreign boys. Two foreign boys with empty stomachs and overfull hearts and clever schemes. His home, which had seemed only a touch too spacious before their arrival, was now almost painfully quiet and near deathly still. Every corner and cranny of the building held some memory or other of their presence and it was enough to keep his heart aching, but not always in a bad way.

 

The vid-calls that had been promised had never come, but he'd half known to expect as much. The boys had a tendency to forget to call their own mother and he certainly didn't expect to rank higher in their hearts than she did. Still, it didn't prevent his thoughts from wandering to where they might be now and how they were doing. Was Fili still tying those silly knots in an effort to keep his fingers dexterous enough for his less savory pastimes? Bilbo still needed to check to see if there was such a thing as a language based on knot-work, or if it had been yet another of the young man's stretched stories. And was Kili still practicing with that BB gun he'd picked up during his stay? He'd certainly showed a remarkable talent for marksmanship, despite his complaints that the item was more of a toy than a weapon. Come to think of it, both boys seemed to have a more thorough knowledge of weaponry than he thought anyone their age ought to. Between that and how quickly they became cautious around strangers - _and how well they hid it_ \- Bilbo had acquired more than enough to keep him worrying over in their absence.

 

And Dis - how was she doing? He knew that either she was ill at the time he knew her or that she had been recently before, although they all seemed to have agreed not to mention her condition aloud. He had overheard enough to gather that she was able to live more comfortably - _financially_ \- without her sons present, but had seen in her eyes how distressed she was that they were so far away. Bilbo had taken to giving her updates twice a week while the two young men had been his guests - _after the initial call, of course_ \- and he'd fast found himself looking forward to her dry humor and her sharp wit. She had reassured him that he could call after her sons left, but the idea had left him feeling awkward, as if he might be intruding or imposing in some way.  She knew how to contact him, as well, though, so it wasn't as if she couldn't reach out to him if she -

 

The sudden presence of a shadow startled Bilbo out of his thoughts. Ignoring the mental voice - _familiar, teasing, and much too young_ \- that scolded him for not keeping track of his surroundings better, Bilbo took in the person blocking his sunlight.

 

The man was tall - _terribly tall_ \- dressed in a smart, soft grey suit - _complete with a fedora of the same shade and a soft pink tie_ \- and wore polished, black shoes. Familiar blue eyes seemed to shine down at him with an impish light and, in his left hand, was a cane crafted of dark wood, the head of it a well-polished steel with worn leather wrapped around it for grip. His hair was grey and cropped short, although, Bilbo seemed to recall it being a bit darker the last time he’d laid eyes on it.

 

“Gandalf?” Bilbo felt a smile stretch across his face and he blinked just to be sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. “Good morning!”

 

“What do you mean?” The older man’s eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down, but the playful light remained. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel that this is a good morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

 

“All of them at once, old man,” Bilbo’s grin turned cheeky. “And that you’re having entirely too much fun, if the color of your hair is anything to go by - either that, or you’re investing far too much effort into coordinating your outfits.”

 

The older man answered with a grin of his own. “Ah, I’m not so vain as that, my dear. My age, I’m afraid, is finally catching up with me.”

 

“Well, don’t just stand there - come in, come in!” Bilbo motioned to the gate with a fluttering hand, moving over on the bench as he did. “Have yourself a seat. Have you come very far? I see that you’re still dragging Foe-Hammer along behind you,” he motioned to the walking stick.

 

“That I am, that I am.” Gandalf chuckled as he moved past the gate, but made no move to settle next to the younger man.

 

“Is it still bashing bandits and brigands about the head  or has your venerable age forced the mighty thing into retirement?” Bilbo tried to keep his face straight as he asked question, knew that the game was all the more fun if the illusion of seriousness was maintained, but feared that his composure was slipping.

 

“Oh, I can barely keep it in check, actually,” the older man replied with mock-gravity. “Its thirst for blood allows me little rest.” He nodded as swept his gaze over the front yard. “This certainly wasn’t here last I came by,” he nodded to the bench. “Is it very new?”

 

“Oh, a few years old now,” Bilbo’s smile faded a touch. “Some guests of mine put it together for me while they were visiting.”

 

The older man's eyes searched the younger’s for a moment before he nodded. “I find myself thirsty for a cup of your most excellent tea, actually, if it’s not an imposition. Do you still have any of that ambrosia left?”

 

Bilbo felt his heart stutter in his chest and fought to keep his eyes from widening. “You know, I just might.” He nodded to himself and took a steadying breath before he moved to his feet. “Would you like to come inside while I brew it up?”

 

“If it won’t be any trouble, of course,” Gandalf gave a bit of a bob - _too much to be a nod of the head, but not enough to be a full bow_ \- and followed Bilbo as the younger man led the way inside.

 

Bilbo moved toward the kitchen, striking up an easy conversation about Gandalf’s travels and where the older man was staying and how long he’d be lingering this time. He struggled to calm his heart as he spoke, and Gandalf, showing the wisdom his age afforded him, allowed the younger man to babble on and answered his questions as appropriate. It wasn’t until Bilbo had the water poured and had brought the two mugs to the table, where Gandalf had already found a seat, that he allowed the conversation to turn to more delicate topics.

 

“So, speaking of the nectar of the gods,” Bilbo spoke with a bit of a huff and tried to keep from giving his friend a reproachful look. “You about gave me a heart attack, old man, and don’t pretend that this is the first time you’ve greeted me with such a scare. I’ll be as grey as you are far before my time if you keep these pranks up.”

 

Gandalf took his grousing in good humor. “You’re still young yet. A bit of excitement every now and then is good for you, I’d dare say. Gets the heart pumping.” He blew gently at his tea before taking a sip. “Codes and double-speak aside, this truly is a well-blended brew.”

 

Bilbo took a tentative taste of his own and hummed his agreement. “I should hope so,” he reached across the table for the honey and a spoon. “I had one of my cousins mix it for me, for times like this.”

 

Gandalf nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then hesitated. He took another mouthful of his tea, instead, and watched Bilbo as if he was searching for something specific. Bilbo sighed at this, but allowed the older man his thoughts.

 

After the few moments of silence had stretched into several minutes, Bilbo cleared his throat. “About Mahal, then?”

  
“Ah, yes, of course,” Gandalf blinked and shifted in his seat, glancing around the kitchen as he did. “I see you’re still living alone, then?”

 

Bilbo blinked, and then frowned. It was a rude thing to do to a guest, but Gandalf had been rude to begin with – _showing up without even a vid-call, broaching such a worrying topic of conversation and then ignoring any and all attempts to discuss it_ – and, at this point, was more family than friend. “I am... still. Are you still between lovers, as well, then?”

 

Had Bungo Baggins been here to witness such a question, he’d have been scandalized, but Belladonna would’ve been beside herself with laughter at her son’s gall. As it was, Gandalf snorted into his tea and set the beverage down rather hastily.

 

“I am, in fact,” his eyes nearly danced with mirth. “Thank you for asking.”

 

“Oh, splendid,” Bilbo nodded and took another sip of his tea. “Now that we’re done with the pleasantries, then, maybe we can discuss why you decided to arrive at my doorstep, with no forewarning, and tease about a very dangerous bit of information only to avoid it once we’re safely able to speak of it?” He completed the question with the arch of a single eyebrow, but Gandalf seemed more amused than chastised.

 

“Apologies, young Master Baggins,” -  _and didn’t Bilbo’s heart ache at the memory of a younger voice calling him Boggins instead_ \- “no offence meant, I promise.” The older man took - _quite deliberately_ \- another nip of his drink before continuing. “Directly to the point, then, yes?” As he continued, though, his voice lost all traces of merriment and his eyes took on a guarded sort of concern. “There is a group of people who have come to me seeking someone with knowledge of Mahal.”

 

Bilbo’s heart didn’t stutter this time - it stopped.

 

He gasped as it restarted, nearly inhaling his tea as he did. “I - I’m sorry?”

 

Gandalf pressed on. “The group is trustworthy and their goals are noble, but they cannot move forward with their intentions unless they have someone knowledgeable with them.” He paused, hesitance flashing across his face for a moment as he did. “You are the only person I could vouch for that met that description.”

 

Bilbo coughed, struggling to get his breath back, and shook his head violently. “I’m sorry, but what? There’s a group of people seeking out a _scientist_ who has _working knowledge_ of that _damned,_ ever-clean, everlasting cure-all to all of Middle-Earth’s energy troubles - a scientist that the bastard Smaug _hasn’t_ gotten his hands on yet, I might add - and your first thought is to _give them my name?!_ ” His voice escaped him as a hiss - it was the only alternative he had to yelling his surprise at the man sitting across from him.

 

Gandalf leveled him a look that could only be described as unimpressed. “Do you really think, my dear Bilbo, that I would betray your trust and safety so easily?”

 

“No!” Bilbo sputtered. “I think that you’re human, same as I am, and that there are people out there,” he waved his hand in wide, frantic motion, “who spend their whole lives lying so that they’ve the talent for _anyone_ to believe them and that there are _wyrms_ ,” he nearly spat the word, “who _hire_ said liars to find people who are _very careful_ about _not being found_!”

 

He hadn’t shouted, didn’t dare risk raising his voice to that volume while discussing such topics, but Bilbo was panting now all the same. He knew, truly he did, that Gandalf would never knowingly betray him like that - _not after keeping his secret so long_ \- but to be so careless as to hand his name out to a folk Bilbo had not even met in passing!

 

“Easy, friend, easy.” Gandalf’s eyes softened.  “No harm was meant. As I said, these people are trustworthy. I trust them with my life and, after listening to their intentions, I’d trust them with yours, as well.” He hesitated again. Bilbo was fast growing a dislike for this habit that his friend had recently acquired. In all the time that he’d known the old man, hesitating was not something he could recall him doing often, if at all. “I thought you might be inclined to assist them willingly, actually, as there are two young men, whom we’re both familiar with, who would be most grateful to have your assistance on this venture.”

 

Bilbo’s heart did stop that time - he was sure of it. His heart stopped and the breath in his lungs vanished and, for a handful of heartbeats, he honestly worried he might faint. A distant voice, speaking from a far corner of his mind and sounding more than a bit like his father, expressed relief that the mug he’d been drinking from was both empty and already on the table’s surface as he was sure he’d have dropped it otherwise.

 

“W - what?” He licked his lips and prayed to the Valar that he’d heard wrong. “Say again?”

 

The smile Gandalf offered him was kind, almost pitying. “Two young men, a blonde and a brunette, I believe. I can’t recall their names at the moment, but they’ve spoken more than fondly of you, I’m told. In fact, if I’m recalling correctly, the younger of the two - they’re brothers, you see - has just celebrated his twentieth birthday.”

 

Bilbo held up a single hand, imploring his friend to give him a moment to process this. His heart was pounding and he still couldn’t quite catch his breath. There was no way - _no possible way_ \- that two such good, kind-hearted young men as his boys, as his Fili and Kili, could have found a way to get involved with anything as dangerous as Mahal and everything it represented.

 

“You lie.” It was meant to be an accusation, but came out sounding more like a question. He searched his friend’s face for any sign that this was a joke. It would be the most distasteful joke that Bilbo had ever heard, but he would forgive Gandalf, swore to the Valar that he would, if he’d just admit to it right now. He licked his lips. “You lie to me, old man.”

 

The old man shook his head, a twinge of regret in his eyes. “I’m afraid not. I am sorry, my dear.” He set his mug down - _empty by the sound of it_ \- and offered another gentle smile. “I had hoped that it would be something you might be willing to discuss with me over supper,” another of those pauses and oh how Bilbo was beginning to loathe them, “and perhaps with a few others, as well.”

 

Bilbo pressed his lips together and wrapped his hands around his empty mug. He wished - _suddenly, idly, violently_ \- that it wasn’t so empty, as he found his throat dry again, but wishes did not stomachs fill.

 

He rubbed the back of one hand across his lips and closed his eyes. He hated that he was about to ask this question, hated even more that the answer would be so pivotal in his acceptance of this impromptu dinner that Gandalf had decided he should host, but he would not allow himself the luxury of pretending otherwise. “The boys?”

 

Gandalf, fortunately for Bilbo, didn’t force the younger man to clarify. “Yes,” he nodded, his gaze warm again. “In fact, I was specifically asked to give you forewarning of their arrival. Something about promised scones?”

 

Bilbo felt his mouth curl into a smile despite his best efforts. “Those two! Of all the things they could’ve passed along with you, it would be that. They’re not boys at all,” a burst of affectionate laughter surprised him. “No, they’re bottomless eating machines - the pair of them.”

 

Gandalf chuckled and shook his head. “So I have no need to inform our guests that the meeting will be canceled, then?”

 

Bilbo threw a weak scowl at the old man. _At least he had the decency to look abashed, really, the nerve of him..._ “No,” he allowed himself a cross huff. “No. I’ll host them a dinner if you’ve already promised them one, but heed this, old man, and listen well,” he sat forward and locked eyes with his oldest friend, forcing all the seriousness of his mood into the look that he could. “I will feed them and I will hear them out, but _I_ will be the one to decide the worthiness of this... this _adventure_. And I will not be bribed, bullied, or cajoled into helping these folk - not by you or the boys or anyone else - and I don’t care what you’ve told them otherwise. Have I made myself clear?”

 

Gandalf nodded his understanding, the gravity of Bilbo’s words reflected in his eyes. “Yes, old friend, very clear.”

 

The younger man let loose a sigh and made his way to his feet, taking his empty mug in hand again. He looked to his friend, one last question on his lips – _how did they find out about that cursed thing? how much do they know? why do they know?_ – but couldn’t muster the nerve to ask it. He settled for clearing his throat, instead. “Good. Now, since you’ve seen fit to invite your friends to enjoy my hospitality, I’ll allow you to help me make supper for them.”

 

A snort escaped the old man, but he stood as well. “Most kind of you, my dear.”

 

Bilbo nodded. “I try.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

It wasn’t the sound of the doorbell that surprised Bilbo - _although the suddenness did give him a startle_ \- but the rapid and repeated ringing of it, accompanied by a pounding on the door - _somewhere between frantic and playful_ \- that unnerved him so completely. Unfortunately, at that particular moment Bilbo stood in his kitchen, a fine dusting of flour over the majority of his clothing - _but none on his face, thank you kindly_ \- and both his hands sticky with dough.

 

Morning had bled into afternoon since Gandalf had arrived and despite Bilbo’s sullen threats, the old man remained sitting at the kitchen table, engaging the younger man in conversation rather than trying his hand at any sort of kitchen-related skill. This was, Bilbo insisted, for the safety of his kitchen, as he remembered - _quite clearly, in fact_ \- a night in which Gandalf had nearly burnt the cozy home down in his attempts to assist a much younger Bilbo in the making of a simple cheese and noodle dish. The following years had seen a dramatic increase in Bilbo’s cooking skills, but the same could not be said of Gandalf’s.

 

The wise – _mischievous_ \- blue eyes met Bilbo’s and the two shared a fond, if exasperated, look before the older man stood. “If I may?”

 

Bilbo huffed, amused. “Please do. And you let those terrors know that if they’ve so much as scuffed the paint on that door, I’ll have them repainting the whole house – dinner be damned!”

 

Gandalf chuckled, took his cane in hand, and made his way to the front door, the shuffling of his feet and the tapping of his cane familiar sounds as we went. Bilbo heard the front door open and the sound of several voices conversing before it was closed again.

 

Bilbo smiled to himself and began spooning the mixture onto the pan he’d prepared, silently muddling over which of the brothers should have the bowl and which should have the spoon. That they’d be begging for scraps of the batter was a certainty and he wasn’t one to play favorites - _he couldn’t recall who’d last had the honor of having the bowl, but five years could do funny things to the details of a person’s memories_ \- so he’d probably let them settle the matter between themselves. It was the fairest way to go about things, after all, and they seemed to have their own system of keeping track of favors and boons that passed between them.

 

He nodded to himself, pleased with his decision, and turned back to the half-filled sheet of unbaked pastries before he paused and frowned. The house was quiet. Too quiet for having just received guests and much too quiet for the guests he’d been expecting.

 

He took a breath and paused in his work, standing still and straining his ears, but only the soft ticking of the oven-timer and the distant tinkling of the wind-chimes setup out back reached him. He let out his breath in a soft, annoyed huff and went back to his cooking, ignoring the pang of disappointment the silence of the house brought.

 

Gandalf had expected the boys to arrive about now, but that was certainly no guarantee that they wouldn’t be arriving closer to nightfall - or even that day, come to think of it. It hadn’t been often – _they truly were good souls at heart_ \- but twice during their visit, they had ventured out to explore the surrounding neighborhoods and not returned until the next day. The first time it had happened, he’d been so beside himself with worry that if he hadn’t already known how stressful the presence of the watch was to the young men, he would have called and demand that they and every neighbor on the block help in hunting the boys down. Fortunately, Bilbo had been astute enough to notice their discomfort and the boys had returned just after second breakfast the next day and all had been well once more.

 

Bilbo paused in his efforts, resting his assistant against the edge of the bowl momentarily, and chewed his lower lip while searching for other, more cheerful lines of thought.

 

Gandalf had certainly been gone a good while. He must’ve stepped outside to speak with whoever had come knocking. Perhaps it had been a distressed tourist or some other such -  

 

All at once there were hands on his shoulders, spinning him round, and, before he could think to do otherwise, he tightened his grip on his mixing spoon and allowed the momentum to carry said spoon into his assailant’s face with rather more force than he was sure he wanted. A yelp answered his attack and there were suddenly fewer hands on his person.

 

Blinking, Bilbo fought to reorient himself and gasped.

 

Before him stood a blond young man - _early twenties, beard short and scruffy, bright blue eyes_ \- clinging to Bilbo’s shoulders as he hunched over, laughter falling from his lips. Beside him was a brunette young man - _barely twenty, if that, with a face full of stubble and familiar brown eyes_ \- currently wearing a smile that hovered between outraged and proud while he clutched at a rapidly darkening bruise forming at his temple.

 

Bilbo gaped at the pair, eyes moving between them, and struggled to find words - any words at all. Kili - _was that really him? When did he get so tall?_ \- seemed to be having the same trouble, but looked as if he were trying to figure out who to scowl at, as well. Fili, though, still hanging off of Bilbo’s shoulders as though they were the only things holding him up, was laughing so hard that he was beginning to gasp for breath.

 

“Your faces! By the Valar!” The blonde’s own face was beginning to turn red with his mirth. “Oh, I wish I’d had a capture ready -” he trailed off into giggles.

 

Over his head, Bilbo saw that Kili’s eyes had narrowed - _that poor boy was going to have a nasty lump before long_ – focusing his ire on his brother. Bilbo arched an eyebrow in sympathy, before a wicked grin curled across his face. Kili’s eyes widened marginally, flickering between Bilbo, Fili and the assistant, before answering with a grin of his own.

 

A soft whistle preceded a second muted thwack and the blonde’s laugher ended with a yelp.

 

“ _Mister Bilbo!?_ ” And now it seemed it was Kili’s turn to gasp for breath between gales of laughter, while Fili pouted and nursed a new wound.

 

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed again. Oh no, this would not do. Those two had given him a nasty fright, and while he hadn’t meant to hit the younger brother as hard as he had, he was of the mind to think that perhaps both of them needed a bit more sense smacked into them.

 

He raised his wooden spoon again and both young men jumped back and fell silent. They shared a look - _and oh, how he had missed their silent conversations_ \- before retreating another step and holding up their hands in surrender.

 

“Master Boggins,” Kili gave a cautious bow and Bilbo fought to keep from smiling. “You’ve, uh, ... we’ve ...” He licked his lips and it dawned on Bilbo that the two lads were looking nervous now. “It’s been a little while, hasn’t it?”

 

Bilbo sighed and allowed his stern look to melt. “Yes - yes, it has.”

 

He set his assistant down and opened his arms and was immediately engulfed in an embrace between two still-boisterous young men. Bilbo clutched the two lads to him and looked immediately to the ceiling, hoping that the lads wouldn’t notice the extra moisture at his eyes. It was a ridiculous thing, to be so emotional over something so simple as seeing two friends again. Because that’s all the lads were, was friends. He had no claim to them, save for the one visit, but his relief at finding them safe and sound - _and older, wasn’t that odd_ \- was almost as overwhelming as his pleasure at seeing the pair of them again.

 

“From famine to feast, then?” He spoke as the boys finally pulled back.

 

Fili’s eyes were soft and held, for a moment, a silent apology while Kili’s were bright and perhaps a bit more moist than Bilbo had expected to see. The sight of them, hale and whole and grinning - it eased the ache from Bilbo’s chest some. It was good to have them back.

Bilbo allowed his smile to soften, but a blur of movement from the corner of his eye had him lunging for his wooden spoon once more. He swung it as soon as it was in his hand, but the boys managed to jump out of range of the utensil, if not Bilbo’s renewed glare.

 

“Scoundrels!” he scowled.

 

Laughter from the doorway interrupted anything else that might’ve been said, and the three turned - the boys careful to stay out of reach - to see Gandalf laughing, without shame, at the group of them.

 

Bilbo switched out the target of his glare. “Don’t think I won’t knock you about the head, old man. I know you played a part in this, as well.” He paused to throw a distrustful look at the miscreants - _his timing was good, they’d begun edging closer to the batter again_ \- who offered him a pair of beatific smiles. “I’d accuse you of planting the idea in their heads, but I know them too well to lay the blame solely at _your_ feet.”

 

“How long have you been standing there, anyway?” Kili’s tone was sullen, but his eyes were sparkling when Bilbo glanced. Instinct had him tearing his eyes to Fili next, but the blond was still where he’d been last, eyes as full of laughter as his brother’s were.

 

“Long enough that I’m not sure which party I feel more pity for,” Gandalf’s words were warm and light in a way that Bilbo hadn’t heard in ages. Kili offered a rude gesture to the older man, but an elbow from Fili and a sharp look from Bilbo had him looking sheepish. “Sympathy aside, though, I think it would be best if I made my way to intercept the rest of our guests. I know as well as anyone else how the simple roads of Hobbiton can be more confusing than they first appear.”

 

Bilbo let his frown flicker into a smile and nodded. “That’s for the best then, the Valar know I need fewer trouble makers around here - especially when they’ve shown a tendency for working together.” He felt his eyes narrow a touch as a thought occurred to him. “Just how many more guests will I be receiving, again?”

 

Gandalf straightened his posture and readjusted his grip on his cane. “Ah, a very good question to ask, especially as you’re preparing tonight’s meal. I believe I’ll allow our younger friends to answer that for you and I’ll see myself out. After all, I have a number of friends to guide here, don’t I?” And before anyone could make a sound of protest, the older man had spun round on his heels and, only a handful of moments later, the front door could be heard to open and shut in rapid succession.

Bilbo released an aggravated sigh. He would think the man’s age nothing but a farce and a lie if he didn’t possess memories of the man looking old when he was still a child, himself. Speaking of mischievous youths...

He lashed out with the wooden spoon without looking and was rewarded with the sound of solid wood hitting flesh and another indignant yelp.

 

A single look showed Fili – _surprising,_ _usually it was the younger one_ \- nursing his wounded hand while he retreated the few paces needed to put him out of Bilbo’s reach, while Kili all but cackled on the far side of the room.

 

“It seems that your reflexes are as sharp as ever, Mister Bilbo,” the blonde spoke with a rueful smile.

 

“Indeed they are,” Bilbo nodded, a wicked smile curling his lips. “It’s too bad I can’t say the same for either of you.”

 

Fili’s eyes warmed with shared amusement - _he always had a good sense of humor_ \- but Kili let out a sharp noise of protest. “We’ve learned plenty of new skills since last we’ve been here. You didn’t even know we were here ‘til we grabbed hold of you, did you?”

“That much is truth, yes,” Bilbo chuckled. “But whoever taught you your sneaking did you a disservice in failing to teach you how to dodge the results of startling someone so.” He shook his spoon at the younger man as he spoke before setting it down again. He looked from one brother to the other and marveled at how much they had changed. “So you have been learning new things, then, and not simply searching for new and uncharted suburban communities to terrorize?”

 

The two shared a quiet moment, and Bilbo was pleased with himself that he still remembered as much of their silent language as he did - _a raised eyebrow meant a question, three rapid blinks in succession was provocation, a stern look was either a warning or some sort of intimidation, but a clenched fist definitely meant ‘no’_ \- before Fili spoke again.

 

“We’ve managed to keep busy,” his voice was a touch deeper, although he was just as slow to speak as he was before. “And we’ve even managed to avoid scaring the locals,” he paused, laughter in his eyes again. “Well, as much as we can, anyway.”

 

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply when a metallic ringing filled the air. All three startled - _he caught the way both boys were reaching for something behind them before they could stop themselves_ \- and then dissolved into laughter. Bilbo moved to the oven to fetch the latest batch of scones before they could burn and heard a whimpering sound behind him.

 

“That’s the smell,” the brunette nearly moaned, daring to move closer. “I would fight off whole armies for one of your scones, Master Boggins - I swear it.”

A burst of laughter escaped their host. It really was good to have the pair of them back - _home_ \- again. “That’s Bilbo to the both of you,” he scolded as he carefully arranged the scones in a cloth covered basket. “None of this ‘mister’ or ‘master’ business. And I believe that you would, young sir, the pair of you seem to have the recklessness and the pain tolerance for such foolishness.” His task finished he turned back to the pair of them once more. “Well, what are you waiting for? Wash your hands and come help me with all this mess.”

They answered with laughter and crowded their way to the kitchen sink. Bilbo closed his eyes, took a moment to listen as the sound of them filled in all the empty, hollow corners of his home again, and let out a relieved breath. 

Time passed in whirlwind of chatter and movement after that. Dishes were prepared and cooked and stored away and five years of adventures and gossip was shared. Bilbo looked up at the clock and startled to see that two hours had passed since their arrival and he still hadn’t thought to ask how many guests he’d be receiving. He didn’t think anything of asking the question of his young friends, but when the younger of the brothers provided him an answer, he was sure he wasn’t hearing right.

“ _How many?!_ ”

 

Kili shrugged, frowning at the vegetables he was chopping. “There’s the pair of us and probably Gandalf and ...” he spared a quick glance at Fili, who was still peeling potatoes - _with a knife instead of the peeler Bilbo had set out_ \- but if there was another exchange, Bilbo missed it. “And, uh, eleven others. No one that we haven’t told you about, of course - not a stranger among them.”

 

Bilbo snorted. “The number of people you’ve spoken of to me could fill a small city,” he quipped. He worried his lower lip while he reviewed all that they’d prepared so far and what else he might put together with the contents of his cupboards. “And half of them would burn my home to the ground, dance in the embers, and piss the ashes cold.” He pulled out his largest mixing bowl and stomped over to the pantry to fill it with as much as it would hold. He set the bowl down on the counter a bit harder than he intended, but didn’t spare either of the young men a dark look as he did so. “Will your mother, at least, be among them to help me wrangle everyone?”

 

“Um, no, actually,” Kili spoke, his movements slowing. He threw an uncertain look over his shoulder at Fili. “Not this time, anyway.”

 

That was an interesting reaction.

 

Bilbo leaned back against the counter and watched the two boys carefully. “That’s a shame,” _was that a warning look that Fili just sent his younger brother?_ “Is she aware that you’re here?”

 

“Yes!” The word succeeded in sounding both startled and sullen. “We just got done visiting her, actually.”

 

“Good,” Bilbo nodded and turned back to the ingredients he was setting up on his stretch of counter space. “The poor thing worries when she doesn’t hear from you... much like another person I know.”

 

Bilbo listened to two sounds of distress, followed by two voices spilling excuses and placations over each other, and smiled to himself. Whatever else happened tonight, it was worth it to have his young men home again.


	5. Good Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking District Shire. Fucking locals. Fucking Baggins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy. And remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual.

District Shire was a fucking pain in the ass.

 

A whole fucking district with no real military presence to speak of - _farmers and merchants, the lot of them_ \- and subpar defenses. Not that the district didn’t serve a purpose. Somebody had to make the food and sell the stuff - _it sure as fuck wasn’t going to be Dwalin Fundinson_ \- and District Shire did the job better than any other district in Middle-Earth.

 

It wasn’t that he hated the district - _there wasn’t a single fuck among them with the nerve to look at him wrong, let alone cuss at him_ \- but it pissed him off at a fundamental level that a district as well prepared as Erebor had fallen to a snot-nosed jack-ass like Smaug, while districts like the Shire just lay open for the taking and no one blinked twice at them. It wasn’t fair, but nothing ever was. That was a lesson that had been beaten into Dwalin lifetimes ago.

 

He pulled up to an intersection and glared at the street signs.

 

Hobbiton was the biggest city in the whole damned district _\- fucking maze of streets leading to a bunch of fucking holes in the ground was what it was_ \- and of course it was more suburbs than anything else. He’d been lucky the last time he’d been this way. Balin had been with him - _a head for maps, his brother_ – and had made navigating this bullshit look like a cake walk.

 

He sighed and scanned his surroundings. Was he supposed to turn left here? He was pretty sure it was a left. He cocked his head to the side and took a more thorough look at where the road headed. It looked like, further down the way, there might be a park of some sort. Baggins lived next some sort of public park. Fuck, the brats had gone on enough about it that Dwalin should be able to walk the paths blindfolded.

 

He glanced down the other way, just to be sure, but ended up turning left, anyway.

 

Sure enough, half way down the street was a huge public-type garden and the house just before it sported a reflective sticker on the front of the mail-box, just like Gandalf had promised. It didn’t hurt that he remembered peeling out in the front yard of the house across the way, either. It’d been at the brats’ request - a parting gift for Baggins, they had called it.

 

He coasted up to the curb in question and cut the engine of his bike, throwing a glance at the house across the street in time to see a woman glaring out the front window. He turned to level a glare of his own at her and she disappeared behind the curtains. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Fucking civilians.

 

He stood, removed his helmet and took a moment to look up and down the street again – _three cross streets in sight, only five of the yards had fences, mostly families, but not many owned dogs_ \- before he tucked his helmet under his arm and made for the door.

 

He knocked once, then twice, and then three times. It wasn’t much of a code, but it worked well enough to announce him as a friend. The sounds that were reaching him were too varied and muffled to identify properly, but it wasn’t long before he was able to pick up on someone approaching the door.

 

“ - not serious! Either of you so much as _think_ of touching them and I’ll ensure you both watch while I feed every last one to our guests!”

 

Dwalin glared at the door. What the fuck?

 

The door opened to reveal the same civilian he’d met here five years ago - hazel eyes, light brown hair, fair skin, below average height, soft around the middle. Not a physical threat, but smart enough that he made sure that Dwalin was who he said he was before he let the brats in sight. It had been enough to earn Dwalin’s grudging respect at the time.

 

Baggins’ eyes widened and his whole frame tensed up when he caught sight of Dwalin in his doorway, just like last time.

 

Dwalin narrowed his eyes. It was a stupid reaction, especially in hostile situations. They’d have to focus on getting rid of this instinct to freeze before they’d be able to teach Baggins any self-defense - and he’d be damned if he let the little know-it-all come along with them without him knowing how to defend himself.

 

Despite having a shit first reaction, Baggins seemed to come back to himself pretty quick. “Ah, Mister Dwalin, it’s good to see you again.” The smaller man nodded his head and took a few steps back, opening the door as he did. “I thought you’d be arriving a bit later... and with others.”

 

Dwalin ignored Baggins, stepped inside, and scanned his immediate surroundings. Wooden floors. Boots would make a racket walking about on that, but - _three sets of shoes present, Baggins was barefoot_ \- his host would be able to move with little noise. The hall continued ahead and curled around to the left, but a number of doors - _archways_ \- opened in a staggered pattern along the length of them. The brats had appeared from different locations when he’d come to pick them up, so a lot of the rooms probably connected with each other. That meant for a difficult time navigating through the house for anyone unfamiliar with the layout. Good for defense. Dwalin would’ve been more impressed if he’d thought the place was designed like that on purpose.

 

Baggins closed the door - _didn’t throw the lock_ \- and cleared his throat. Dwalin waited until Baggins opened his mouth, though - _probably to repeat himself_ \- before he answered.

 

“Nah. Had bus’ness of m’own to ‘tend to ‘fore I came this way.”

 

Baggins blinked up at him and remained silent for a handful of seconds. Probably expected him to say more. Dwalin stopped himself from sneering at the scientist, but just barely.

 

“Right, then,” Baggins muttered. “This way. I -”

 

“Dwalin!” The familiar cry came seconds before the impact - _the brat was getting too old for this_ \- but the old soldier was used to such antics. “You’re here! Where’re the others? Did Thorin get lost? Is that your helmet? Which bike did you bring? Can I drive it? I’ll be real careful! I won’t even go very fast - or very far! Just down the street and back! Please? Hey, what are you doing? Dwalin? Uncle?! Ack!”

 

Dwalin dumped Kili on the ground and gave him a vicious grin. The chatter wasn’t anything he’d never had to endure before, but he wouldn’t suffer the brat to crawl over him like that before a stranger.

 

Kili looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor and flashed a smile at Baggins - _and how did the local merit being looked to first?_ \- before offering up an apologetic look to Dwalin.

 

Dwalin snorted. Baggins didn’t look overly thrilled, either. That suited Dwalin just fine.

 

A metallic ringing sound came from further in the home - _muffled by distance, the place must be well furnished_ \- and stopped abruptly.

 

“Got it,” another familiar voice called.

 

Baggins shot a look sharp look at Kili, who offered an entirely too innocent smile in return, before glancing back at Dwalin. “Well, as I was saying, this way, please. We’re still preparing dinner for this evening, so we’ve yet to escape the kitchen.”

 

Dwalin grunted in answer, stepped around the brat, and followed where Baggins was leading him. Behind him he heard Kili scramble to his feet and dash off elsewhere, whistling sharply as he went. Dwalin smirked and noted that Baggins narrowed his eyes. Whatever failings he might have, the local was clever enough to recognize a signal for what it was.

 

Kili was in the kitchen by the time Dwalin and Baggins arrived, his shoulder pressed to Fili’s and their backs to the entrance. The line of their shoulders tensed as the two older men entered, but they gave no other sign that they’d heard anything.

 

Baggins cleared his throat rather pointedly and the two flinched - _that wasn’t like them_ \- before turning - _Fili first, to buy Kili a few extra seconds, Kili was swallowing something_ \- and flashing bright, toothy smiles. Baggins narrowed his eyes and gave a pointed look to the nearest counter top. There was nothing threatening present that he could see - _several bowls, some food, a wooden spoon_ \- but the brats sprang apart and moved to put more distance between themselves and Baggins anyway. Dwalin gave the local a more thorough visual inspection, but if the man was hiding weapons on his person he was better trained than Nori.

 

“Boys?” Baggins’ tone could have been conversational, but for the thread of a threat lurking under it. Dwalin felt his jaw clench. “How many scones do you suppose I’ll have, if I count them?”

 

Kili choked back a yelp and moved across the kitchen like his arse had been lit on fire. “Oh, I dunno - you know me, no head for numbers. Besides, I was with you and Dwalin the whole time, practically!”

 

Fili took a few steps back as well, nodding to Dwalin but keeping the bulk of his attention on Baggins. “And I’ve been at the sink for the past hour.” The lad wasn’t normally one for many words - _one of his better traits_ \- but he was grinning in that cock-sure way that he did right before he, or his brother, made another comment about the grey in Thorin’s hair or the shine of Dwalin’s head.

 

Baggins gave a narrow look to each of the brats before he huffed and moved to the counter to go back to whatever it was he’d been mixing. The brothers tensed again when Baggins picked up the spoon - _was that what was making them squirm?_ \- but relaxed pretty quickly after that. Enough, anyway, that Kili seemed to find the breath to start up his chatter again.

 

The lad split his attentions between the three of them, going on about Dwalin’s motorcycles and Dis’ health - _shouldn’t be talking about her in front of a local like that_ \- and how much his aim had improved. Dwalin stood, leaning against the door frame for a bit, before he went to grab for the nearest chair.

 

The first time it scraped against the wood flooring had been an accident, but after the look Baggins had given him - _he was no youngling to be bullied about with looks, not like the brats were_ \- he made sure to drag it across the floor from where it had started at the table to a cozy little corner of the kitchen proper.

 

Kili’s words trailed off into silence and his gaze bounced continuously from Baggins to Dwalin and back. Fili hadn’t moved from his station at the sink, but his movements slowed, as if he were waiting for something. Baggins narrowed his eyes again, at Dwalin this time, and the old soldier just smirked and fell back heavily into the chair. Let the lads take a lesson or two on how to break in a local.

 

Baggins only sighed, though, looking put out, before he turned his attention back to Kili. “I’ll be eating every last scone myself, if the rest of your friends are the same.”

 

Kili’s eyes widened and even Fili looked up. “What? No!” Kili shot Dwalin a pleading look. “No! They’re all well behaved!” Dwalin gave a rude snort and Kili nearly fell over himself in a panic. “Except, Dwalin. They’re all nice and polite and Ori even knows which cutlery to use for fancy dinners! Just... just not Dwalin so much. And maybe Uncle.” The lad spent another moment glancing between Baggins and Dwalin before he dove at his brother. “Where’s the vid-com? I thought you had it with you.”

 

Fili startled at the sudden attention, but otherwise tolerated his brother unexpectedly shoving hands into his pockets rather well. “Left boot,” he muttered, shifting his stance so that he could wiggle the correct foot.

 

Kili fished the vid-com out without another word and backed toward the other entrance – _the one_ _he must’ve used to get to the kitchen first_ \- waving the device in the air. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just be right back, then, yes? Just want to see how everyone’s doing... see if anyone’s lost... I’ll, uh,... yeah I'll be right back.”

 

Kili fled the room to the sound of Dwalin’s bark of laughter. After Fili gave a pointed look at the door and then Baggins, Baggins sighed. “Go on, then. And let him know that I was joking, mostly.”

 

Dwalin watched as the second of the brats left the room – _could just hear their voices if he strained his ears_ \- and looked back to Baggins, tilting his head as he did. “It’s the scones, then?”

 

Baggins raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

 

“The scones.” Dwalin just now realized that the way Baggins had positioned himself, anyone entering the kitchen would have to move past him to reach the pastries. “That’s ‘ow ye’ve gotten ‘em to mind ye.”

 

Baggins blinked, then nodded. “One of the ways.” He wore a smirk now. “Bribery can only do so much, after all.”

 

Dwalin grunted in answer and relaxed into the chair, studying the odd local. Last time he fetched the brats from this place, they had gone on and on about the stranger - about his home and his neighbors and his opinions... mostly about his food, though. Not that he could blame them - _being well fed seemed like a luxury most days and the smells here were enough to start his mouth watering_ \- but it certainly wasn’t worth the amount of affection and charm the lads were showing the scientist.

 

Baggins certainly seemed to think so, though, didn’t he? He nodded along to Kili’s chatter and didn’t press Fili for any verbal responses. He seemed to be used to their rough-housing, too - didn’t even bat an eye when Kili tackled Dwalin in the hallway. Even the glares he gave them were made more of affection than they were of disapproval.

 

Dwalin shifted in his seat and glared at the local. If Grayhame hadn’t been insistent that Baggins was the only one who could help them, Dwalin might be tempted to wring the smaller man’s neck. Of course, there were plenty of things he could do to the know-it-all that wouldn’t permanently damage him. Even leaving out the extremities, there was enough to damage that could keep him entertained. A blow or two to the stomach –

 

Kili’s voice was heard suddenly, raised in volume and pitch - _must be talking to Dori, only ever got that high when Ori’s oldest brother started ragging on him_ \- and Dwalin shifted again. Best not to think about how to beat on the local while he was alone in the room with him. He fingered his boot knife and debated the merits of giving it another sharpening.

 

Baggins looked into one of the bowls he had nearby and muttered something to himself. He sighed, muttered again, and went through a door that had remained closed before now. A small room by the sound of it - a pantry judging by the sounds Baggins was making.

 

Dwalin listened for another moment before allowing a smirk to cross his face. Now would be the perfect time to investigate those scones the brats were always moaning on about.

 

He made his way across the room quickly enough. He gave another glance to the pantry door, before turning back to the baskets. It took longer than he’d anticipated to figure out which basket held the scones - _those rolls looked tempting, too_ – but he found them. The moment he was about to grab one, though, he caught a blur of movement from the corner of his eye and pain exploded across the back of his hand.

 

Dwalin didn’t pause to think. His elbow jerked out, catching his assailant in the upper abdomen. He heard the sudden gust of air that meant his target was winded and reached out to shove the man’s face into his rapidly rising knee. He then grabbed his assailant by the collar of his shirt and shoved him back against the wall. An arm across the throat kept his target pinned in place while he tried to figure out who the fuck was dumb enough to attack him.

 

Frozen beneath his arm was Baggins.

 

His nose was bloody now, and his face was a good deal more red, but the man managed to pull off looking outraged and terrified in equal parts. Dwalin glanced down and saw that Baggins still had a wooden spoon in his grip. Right, so that was what had his knuckles smarting.

 

Dwalin was just about to release the smaller man - _fucking idiot, sneaking up on a trained soldier_ \- when a strangled noise came from the doorway. He and Baggins turned to find both the brats standing, gaping, in the entrance to the kitchen.

 

Dwalin released Baggins immediately, of course, and Fili rushed forward, grabbing a dishcloth along the way. Fili pressed the rag to Baggins’ face, despite the local’s protest, and Kili muttered something about calling back to whoever he was speaking to on the vid-com.

 

Kili crossed the room to hover over Baggins and took over the holding of the cloth from Fili - _his eyes again darting between the two older men_ \- a small frown on his face the whole time. The glare Baggins was giving the youngest Durinson was more sullen than cross.

 

Fili spoke as he stepped around Baggins, his voice calm but his gaze cool. “What happened?”

 

Dwalin blinked. The lads weren’t mad at him, were they? Not for reacting naturally to an attack?

 

“Id was an asidend, ’m sure,” Baggins spoke up, his voice warped by the injury he’d taken. “I cau’d him drying to dake a scon’ an’ I didn’ dink abou’ how he’d rea’d do de assisdand.”

 

The brats shared a look that had Fili clenching his fists and Kili frowning more severely.

 

Dwalin frowned and looked at the back of Fili’s hand again, then at the back of his own. Sure enough, the bruises were enough in the right shapes to have been made by the same thing. Dwalin let his eyes narrow at Baggins, but bit back a growl - for now.

 

His eyes flickered over Kili’s form and, almost immediately, he spotted the raised bruise that had formed at the lad’s temple. “What’s that?” he barked, not caring that his tone had Baggins startling.

 

The brats shared another look, this one’s meaning more closed off to Dwalin.

 

“What’s what?” Kili looked confused. If Dwalin hadn’t had a part in raising the brats himself, he might’ve believed it.

 

“The bruise. The pretty colors you’re wearing at the corner of your thick head,” Dwalin all but growled.

 

Kili blinked - _the picture of surprise and confusion_ \- but, again, Baggins spoke up.

 

“Id was an asidend.” Baggins met Dwalin’s eyes. Dwalin might have had some sliver of respect for the - _smaller, weaker_ \- man if he wasn’t busy trying to keep from giving the local a real beating. “De boys sdardled me - like I sdardled you  - an’, well,” he shrugged. “Insdinc’s dook over.”

 

Dwalin cracked the knuckles of one hand and then the other. It would not be good to kill the man - not when he was the only scientist they’d found so far with the knowledge they needed. Well, if Greyhame was correct, anyway. It could be that Greyhame was exaggerating, though. If he was – _Balin would be able to tell_ \- then they certainly wouldn’t miss the little shit. He just needed to find something to distract the brats with for a second or two...

 

“Dwalin.” Fili’s voice held a note of warning.

 

Baggins’ eyes were wider now. Good, the fucker understood how serious Dwalin was. Dwalin took a step closer, then, but Fili was still in the way, and Kili was moving to block him, as well. Fucking brats.

 

“Move,” he didn’t snarl, not at the brats, but it was a close thing.

 

Two sets of eyes hardened – _it was Hili glaring at him again, in stereo now_ \- and, behind them, Baggins started babbling about the lads minding their own business and how there wasn’t any reason for being so cautious, that he and Dwalin could behave like civilized adults without their intervention.

 

“Well, lads, you were certainly right ‘bout this place bein’ -” the familiar voice, Balin’s voice, cut off abruptly. Silence stretched and Dwalin could almost see the bemusement on his brother’s face when he spoke next.  “Well now, it looks ‘s if you’ve reacquainted yourself with our host already, brother. Care t’introduce me again or shall I have to make m’own pleasantries?”

 

Dwalin shifted so that he could meet Baggins’ eyes again. “Baggins, this’s Balin. Balin, this’s Baggins.”

 

One of the brats - _probably Kili_ \- snorted, but everyone else ignored that.

 

“Nise do meed ‘ou.” Baggins glanced to Balin and gave a bit of a nod, but kept his focus on Dwalin. A good decision. Maybe the runt had more survival instincts than he let on.

 

“Yes, well, it’s nice to meet you, ‘s well. I see you’ve already become familiar with my brother’s charms. Lads? Perhaps you’d like to help Mister Baggins recall where he’s placed his med-kit? ’M sure he’d appreciate the chance to clean ‘mself up ‘fore anyone else arrives.”

 

Baggins muttered some protest or other - _could the man not just button his lip and do what had to be done?_ \- but allowed a babbling Kili to lead him from the room. Fili followed, but only after gracing Dwalin with another dark, warning glance before he left sight.

 

The moment the three were out of hearing range, Dwalin allowed his shoulders to relax and gave his first good look at the bruise forming on the back of his hand. It smarted like a motherfucker.

 

Balin cleared his throat. “Going out ‘f your way to be polite, ‘s always?”

 

Dwalin gave the older man a sullen look, but made sure to keep his voice low. “Thought to snag a scone t’hold m’over ‘til supper. Baggins smacked m’hand ‘nd I didn’ think ‘fore I reacted.”

 

“Savage,” Balin sighed. The smaller man approached Dwalin, pulling him down to knock their foreheads together in a familiar gesture of affection before giving his shoulder a solid smack.

 

“Aye,” Dwalin nodded before he pulled back to look his brother over. “Y’ve gotten shorter ‘nd wider since last ‘ve seen ye.”

 

“Quite the opposite, actually - I’ve dropped a stone.” A light flashed in Balin’s eyes and he raised his chin a touch. It was the closest that Balin ever came to physical displays of triumph.

 

Dwalin grinned and thumped his brother on the back. It was good to be back in his brother’s company again.

 

Conversation flowed easily between the two brothers. Information was reported and misinformation was corrected. Gossip was shared and memories reminisced over and old jokes retold. Dwalin shared his misgivings about Baggins with his brother, but was scolded for it almost immediately.

 

“I know that trusting doesn’t come easily t’you, brother, but we need Mister Baggins’ skills. We need the knowledge he has and we cannot accomplish our goal without him.”

 

Dwalin spared a scowl for Balin, but left the subject alone.

 

Baggins and the brats returned not too long after that. Baggins’ nose was still swollen and pink, but he’d mopped the blood up and pulled a clean shirt on. The brats took to hovering around him, one of them always at the local’s side, while the other sat with the Fundinson brothers under the guise of catching up.

 

Dwalin bristled at the idea that the pair was trying to protect Baggins - _fucking poacher of a local_ \- from him, but, again, he held his tongue.

 

The Lorison brothers were next to arrive.

 

Dori was his usual, stuffy self. He and Balin started prattling away like birds and it only got worse when Baggins joined the conversation. Dwalin squinted his eyes at Dori and turned his head to one side, before he snorted and smirked. Whatever Balin had lost from his middle, Dori had added. Not that Dwalin was overly surprised. Even with the odd jobs they’d all had to take over the years, Dori had found himself, more often than not, behind a desk, pushing papers and smiling for the locals.

 

Ori - _taller now, but as gangly as ever_ \- was swept into the brats’ company before he could do much more than smile a greeting at anyone. They were chattering away, too, but their voices were interrupted with laughter and punctuated with rude sounds. They presented the poor lad to Baggins like he was a prized possession, and Baggins managed to shoot a reassuring look to the lad while shooting an appraising and approving look to the brats. At least the brats allowed the lad to greet Balin as well.

 

Nori wasn’t visible just yet, which meant –

 

“Right between the ribs. You’re letting your age show, old man.” The smug voice was accompanied by pain - _shallow, sharp, brief_ \- to the left side of his back, just where his heart would be.

 

Dwalin feigned to the left, jerked to the right, and yanked Nori out of the shadows by the collar of his shirt. “Still scrawny, kid,” Dwalin smirked as he released his friend. “What’d I tell ye ‘bout not eatin’ the shiny thin’s ye find ‘n the pockets ‘f others?”

 

Nori only shoved his hands into his own pockets and found a bit of wall to lean on next to Dwalin. “And yet I can’t seem to help putting them in my mouth.” A wicked grin stretched across his face, even as his eyes scanned the crowded kitchen. “So, what’s the word on Baggins, then?”

 

Dwalin sneered and cut his eyes to the man in question.

 

Nori was wearing a smirk of his own when Dwalin looked back. “You’re that impressed, are you? Must be a keeper then.”

 

“Light on ‘is feet ‘nd quick with the reflexes.” Dwalin grunted. “’E’s clever enough t’ keep up with m’ brother ‘nd polite enough t’ please y’rs. ‘Nd he’s got those two wrapped ‘round ‘is little finger.” He nodded over to where Baggins was directing the brats to bring food to the table. “Looks like ‘e’s putting Ori t’ work, ‘s well.” The youngest of the Lorisons trailed behind the two brats, arms full of food and attention firmly fixed on the Durinson brothers.

 

“Lots of trinkets spread throughout the place,” Nori murmured, smiling like they were talking about the weather. “A golf club next to the bed in the master bedroom for what I assume is defense.” Dwalin gave a rude snort and Nori arched an eyebrow. “It’s a good choice for an untrained civvie - don’t need any training to swing it and it hurts like a bitch. The place is a maze of rooms and there’s a cellar beneath, as well.”

 

Dwalin arched a brow at him this time. There was no way - _even with as fast and stealthy as this bastard was_ \- that he would’ve had enough time to look through the whole house and find the door to the cellar. Especially since Dwalin was pretty sure the door to the cellar, if there was one, was in the pantry.

 

Nori grinned. “You think I was going to set foot in an unknown place without knowing all the particulars? I had Ori look up the blueprints to the place before we came over.” Nori’s eyes flickered over the three children as they made their way back to Baggins for more instructions. “Who thumped Kili?”

 

Dwalin nodded over to Baggins, who was currently discussing tea with Dori.

 

Nori’s eyes narrowed, but his smile took on a sharp edge. “He tries that with Ori and I’ll wear his skin.”

 

“Don’t le’ the brats hear ye say tha’,” Dwalin muttered, his eyes still on Baggins. “They think ‘e hung the moon.”

 

There was another sound toward the front of the house and Baggins left to answer the door, Kili following behind him. Fili and Ori took up another platter of food each and dropped their voices as they spoke, eyes darting to Dwalin as they did.

 

Dwalin growled at the younglings and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Nori looked from the pair of younglings to Dwalin and back before raising both eyebrows in silent question.

 

Dwalin raised his bruised hand. “’E startled me ‘nd ‘is nose started bleedin’. The brats took ‘ffence for some reason. Won’t leave ‘im ‘thout a minder, now.”

 

Nori burst into startled laughter. Dori shot the pair of them a questioning look, but Nori shook his head and waved him off. Dori frowned almost immediately, but was distracted by conversation with Balin. Baggins returned in the next moment, Oin and Gloin trailing after him, and distracted the eldest Lorison further.

 

“Oin’s getting a bit more silver-touched.” Nori murmured.

 

Dwalin grunted in answer. Oin was getting on in years, but looked as if he hadn’t lost all of his hearing just yet - or maybe he’d learned to lip read.

 

Gloin had cornered Baggins and was already going on about his wife’s cooking. Dwalin felt a surge of vicious glee at the flickers of annoyance that crossed the local’s face. Kili looked to step in to provide interference, but Fili caught both his attention and Nori’s at once.

 

“Oi - Master Thief!” The conversation in the room lulled momentarily and while Dori gave his red-headed brother a pained look, Baggins took the opportunity to escape from Gloin’s grasp. “Come over here a moment, I have something I want to show you.”

 

Nori offered Dori a cheeky grin and answered Dwalin’s annoyed huff with an indulgent smirk. “Don’t worry, old man - we’ll catch up more later,” he murmured before he followed the brats - and Ori - off to another room.

 

Dori grimaced and made to follow the group, but Baggins was at his elbow again with a question of some sort and soon had Dori diverted once more.

 

Dwalin grunted to himself. Maybe the brats had the local better trained than he thought, then.

 

The left front side of Dwalin’s jacket gave off two short bursts of vibration. He frowned and fished his vid-com out of the inner pocket. He had an instant message.

 

**_TD_ ** _: D_

 

Dwalin felt his face stretching into a grin as he typed his response.

 

**_DF_** : _Yes?_

 

Dwalin went back to observing the crowd. The brats were huddled at the far side of the dining room, almost hidden from sight from where Dwalin was standing, conversing quietly with Nori and Ori - _Dori wasn’t going to be pleased with that_ \- while Oin had seemed to take it upon himself to examine Baggins’ recent injuries. Gloin was describing something to Balin - _either an escape or an explosion, by the way he was moving his hands_ \- and Dori seemed to be making himself at home with the local’s tea set. Dwalin glanced at his watch, making sure he had counted out the seconds to 3 minutes correctly, before typing another response.

 

**_DF_ ** _: You need something?_

 

Dwalin looked up, hearing another sound at the door - _only barely over the din the group was making_ \- and soon Fili was showing Gandalf and the last three of the company into the dining room.

 

Dwalin smirked. Well, the last three, save one.  

 

He had enough time to note that Bombur and Gloin had retreated to a corner - _the better to discuss their mutual love of things that explode_ \- and that Bofur had already said something that had given Baggins cause to pale, before he typed out yet another message.

 

**_DF_ ** _: There’s no shame in asking for help._

 

The response was almost immediate.

 

**_TD_ ** _: Fuck you._

 

Dwalin didn’t bother hiding the bark of a laugh that made its way free. The conversations around him lulled and Balin sent him a pointed look. Dwalin gave him a shit-eating grin and flashed him two quick hand signs. _Leader_. _Lost_.

 

Bifur, still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, burst into a coughing fit rather suddenly, while Balin sighed and smiled while he signed back. _All clear?_

 

Dwalin waved off his concerns. _Affirmative_.

 

**_DF_ ** _: Your coordinates?_

 

**_TD_ ** _: Bywater Path and Frogmorton Way_

 

**_DF_ ** _: OMW_

 

Dwalin nodded to himself. He had an idea of where that was. He tried to catch Balin’s eye again, but it was a lost cause. He looked to Bifur instead. _Moving out. ETA 15 minutes._

 

Bifur stood up straighter, rolled his shoulders back and nodded.

 

Dwalin answered with a nod of his own and made his way to the front door, passing a dimly lit room that held two familiar figures on his way.

 

He paused, nodded to Ori and signed the familiar symbols again. _Moving out. ETA 15 minutes._

 

Nori tensed, face going blank. _Repeat. Clarify._

 

_Leader. Lost._ Dwalin signed again, smirk firmly in place, and watched the tension leave the red-head’s posture. _ETA 15 minutes_ , he repeated.

 

Nori nodded and answered with a smirk of his own. _Watch your 6_.

 

Dwalin nodded, ignored the shine of curiosity coming from Ori and slipped out the front door.

 

It took him seven minutes to reach Thorin’s location. Thorin stood, leaning against the trunk of a tree, not three feet from the street sign with his bike parked at the curb. There was a local standing in the yard across the street from Thorin, the rake in his hand glinting in the last of the evening light. He was an older, obese man and looked to be highly displeased with Thorin’s presence. Thorin looked to be actively ignoring everything around him.

 

Dwalin gave a muted whistle and signed to his best friend. _Shadows?_

 

Thorin hid his look of relief, but not fast enough to keep Dwalin from seeing it. _Negative._

 

“Took your fucking time.” Thorin’s tone was snide, but he made his way to his bike faster than he had to.

 

Dwalin glanced up and down the street, eyes sharp for vehicles and unwanted company. “Been waitin’ long, then?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Dwalin thumped Thorin on the back as he passed. “Keep tellin’ ye, ye’re not m’ type. I ‘ppreciate th’ offer, though.”

 

Thorin seemed too focused on - _ignoring him_ \- keeping his bike moving to provide a proper response, so Dwalin let it drop. “Reinforcements?”

 

Thorin shot him a venomous look and said nothing.

 

Dwalin grimaced. That didn’t bode well. “Sister?”

 

The silence stretched on for a bit, but there were no poisonous looks, so Dwalin counted that as a win. After half a block, Thorin spoke. “The usual. If they come home with so much as a bruise, she’ll slit my throat.”

 

Dwalin nodded. That sounded like Dis’s style. “Everyone else’s there already.” He hesitated, but only for a moment. “I’d rather send all three ‘f the runts home. We could convince ‘em to go willingly… with the local’s help.”

 

Thorin sent him a questioning look, but kept his silence.

 

“Ye know how I feel ‘bout bringing the brats ‘nd the lad along.” Thorin nodded and made an impatient gesture. “The local has ‘em wrapped ‘round his little finger. Had ‘em setting the table earlier ‘nd they looked happy t’ be doin’ it.”

 

Thorin snorted and smirked. “She said he’s got a tight lead on the pair of them.”

 

Dwalin frowned. “’E’s been talkin’ t’ Dis?”

 

“Not for a while,” Thorin shrugged. “Not since they were here last, but she was impressed with him at the time. Couldn’t get her to shut up about how he was such a good influence on them.”

 

Dwalin nodded and continued to frown. He didn’t like that, not at all. What did a local have to offer the likes of the Durinsons? What did a local know of what it was like to wander about all of Middle Earth, homeless and half-starved?

 

A thought came to him and his mouth found its way to a smile again. “She’s okay with ‘im beatin’ ‘em, then?”

 

Thorin stumbled, head whipping up. “ _What?_ ”

 

“’E seems quick t’ move first ‘nd question later.” Dwalin held up his bruised hand. “Fili’s got one tha’ matches ‘cross ‘is knuckles already, but Kili’s wearing ‘is at ‘is temple.” He cast a side-long look at Thorin and shrugged. “Jus’ didn’ figure yer sister for bein’ one t’ tolerate tha’sort ‘f shite.”

 

Thorin’s face was dark with rage. He kept his eyes forward - _likely aiming for the mess of vehicles parked haphazardly around Baggins’ yard, now that they were on the right street_ \- but he was clenching and unclenching his jaw the way he did before he threw his hardest punches.

 

Dwalin let his grin sharpen and kept his peace. Surely they didn’t need Baggins along on this mission. It wasn’t as if they’d be short a blade or a gun-hand if we left him behind. The company could reclaim Erebor, then send back for the local. Safer for everyone that way - especially Baggins.

 

Dwalin stood on the yard while Thorin secured his bike on the sliver of drive way left to him. There was tension in his friend’s posture, but his eyes were cold and calm. That was Thorin, though, a dragon’s rage hidden under a sheen of ice.

 

The lot of them must’ve been having a good time - Dwalin could hear them singing as the pair of them made their way up the drive. He fought to hide his smirk as Thorin pounded on the door.

 

A minute passed and no answer came. Thorin shot Dwalin an annoyed look and knocked again. The singing from inside was still going strong - _something about Baggins and dishes_ \- so Dwalin shook his head and reached for the door knob. It was locked.

 

Dwalin had let two members of the company know where he was going, and when he’d return, and he got locked the fuck out?! Dwalin snarled at the door, but the hand on his shoulder brought him back to the moment.

 

Thorin was already on his vid-com, but he didn’t look any happier than Dwalin did.

 

Balin answered on the second ring. “I thought m’ brother would’ve reached you by now.”

 

“Does our host know that his front door is locked?” The strain of keeping his voice even and calm was audible to those who knew Thorin.

 

Fortunately, Balin was one of those people. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

 

Thorin turned off his vid-com, tucked it away, and ran the heel of his right hand back and forth across his forehead.

  
The noise inside ended abruptly and Thorin shared a look with Dwalin, one that Dwalin had seen on his friend’s face many times before. It was a look that meant, before they were done here, Thorin would be introducing Baggins to his fist. Dwalin just hoped he wouldn’t have cause to miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should've been posted last night, but AO3 was having hiccups and so posting was delayed. (I cry pardon)
> 
> I also wanted to announce that Smalls (my muse, wrangler, and adopted-sister) just celebrated another birthday yesterday! *cheers* She identifies best with Dwalin, so far, so this chapter was especially a treat for her *grins* Another friend of mine says that he identifies best with Fili and Kili so far. I'm curious to know what the lot of you think of my portrayal of Tolkien's characters so far - please don't hesitate to share!


	6. Good Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo Baggins is not punched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Exile by Hurts. This is a British band and their CDs haven't been released in the USA yet, so if you can't listen to it on Spotify, try looking it up on Youtube. And remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual.

_Must not punch Bilbo Baggins._

 

This was the mantra that Thorin repeated to himself while he waited for the door before him to open.

 

In order to bring down Smaug - _especially with as few people as they had_ \- they would need to utilize Mahal. Smaug had spent the past 18 years scouring Middle Earth for every scientist who might possibly have any information related to Mahal. Bilbo Baggins was the only one that Greyhame knew of who had escaped joining Smaug’s collection. No one knew the fate of the scientists that Smaug had taken possession of. Bilbo Baggins might very well be the last person in all of Middle Earth who had an understanding of how Mahal worked. Doing harm to Bilbo Baggins, especially to his head, might harm the knowledge that was hidden there. Therefore, Thorin Durinson _must not punch Bilbo Baggins._

 

As much as Thorin counted Dwalin as a brother, there was also the fact that the man was notorious for running with the first conclusion he came to. He had a well-known distaste for locals, as well. It would have been easy for Baggins to make Dwalin’s shit list, even without any indications that he was mistreating Thorin’s nephews. With evidence of any sort... Thorin would be surprised if Dwalin hadn’t found an opportunity to corner Baggins for a “conversation” yet.

 

A sound came from the far side of the door - _the turning of a lock_ \- and it opened to reveal Greyhame. The welcoming smile the old man wore was tinted, briefly, with confusion, before it turned into a concerned frown.

 

“Is all well, gentlemen?”

 

“Well enough,” Thorin muttered. “It seems today’s been a rather productive day.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Certainly.” Thorin kept his face blank and his voice mild. “Or, rather, I assumed as much, since the party you and our host have been throwing can be heard from the street.”

 

A muffled squawk came from somewhere behind Greyhame and the hopeful smile that the old man had allowed to show faltered.

 

“Come now, Thorin,” he frowned as he opened the door further. “Surely we weren’t so loud. And if we were, then there’s no harm in it. I’m certain that Bilbo’s neighbors wouldn’t begrudge us a bit of merry-making.”

 

“Is that so?” Thorin focused on keeping his breathing even and stepped inside. It helped to distract him from the impulse to shove the old man out of the way so that he could see where his nephews had got to. “Then we have nothing to fear from the woman living across the street calling the law with a noise complaint?”

 

There was the sound of a muttered oath, and someone was pulling Greyhame out of the way.

 

The man was shorter than Thorin had prepared himself for, but otherwise looked just as he did in the captures his nephews had shown him years before. He was barefoot and his hair was disarrayed, but, save for some redness and swelling around his nose and eyes, he looked presentable enough. It almost looked as if the local had been punched recently.

 

Baggins gave Thorin a polite nod, but his eyes became wary when his gaze moved past Thorin.

 

Thorin glanced over his shoulder in time to see Dwalin cast a glare at the local, right before he flashed a smirk Thorin’s way. Of course. Dwalin had already had that “conversation” with Baggins, then. That was one thing out of the way, at least.

 

Thorin returned his attention to Baggins, who seemed to have recovered and was waving the both of them inside. “Please, come in.”

 

The first thing Thorin noticed was the pile of boots and shoes that he nearly tripped over. He sent a questioning look to Dwalin, but got a snort and an eye roll in return.

 

Baggins closed the front door after Dwalin stepped inside - _was that a rude gesture that the local made out the front door before closing it?_ \- and moved past the pair of them to head further into the house, motioning to a small mountain of footwear as he passed it. “Boots off! Boots off! I’ll not have you lot scuffing up my floors and treading dirt into my carpets, thank you kindly.”

 

Richly colored hardwood covered the floors and the walls were tastefully, if minimally, decorated. Doors opened on either side of the hallway, but Thorin’s view of the length of the hall was somewhat blocked by the crowd that had formed.

 

His gaze fell on his nephews first, standing closer than the rest. Fili stood tall, hands clasped behind his back and a pleased smile on his face. Kili stood next to him, vibrating with energy, as always, and an over-excited grin - _his trademark_ \- firmly in place. Thorin took a moment to truly take in the sight of the pair of them. It was difficult, sometimes, not to see the children they had been - _to remember that they were men, now_ \- but the evidence that they were grown was standing before him. He nodded to each of them - _it eased his heart to see their smiles widen as he did_ \- before he turned to the rest of his friends.

 

He picked out Balin immediately – _good to see he was keeping the weight off_ \- and then Dori - _odd not to see Ori at his side_ \- who was standing near him. Bifur and his cousins were easy enough to pick out, and Gloin was hovering near Bombur, as always. That left Nori, Ori, and Oin unaccounted for, but with as many rooms as this place had, they were sure to be nearby.

 

Thorin’s eyes flickered to back Dori - _something was off_ \- and he tilted his head to one side. Dori looked composed, as always, but was he... flushed? A small smile curled the corners of Thorin’s mouth. He was. The ever responsible Dori Lorison was looking a touch flushed. As was Balin. Come to think of it, the rest of the company was looking pink-cheeked and hale as well - even his nephews.

 

Thorin blinked. Were they drunk? He cut a suspicious look to Balin, but was only given a smirk for his troubles. They were! The whole lot had been drinking without him! He snorted. The ungrateful savages.

 

Thorin turned to follow his host to wherever the food was, but the man only stood in the nearest archway, his bearing highly unimpressed.

 

The smaller man looked from Thorin to Dwalin and back before folding his arms across his chest and snorting. “As I said, I won’t have you tracking all of Middle Earth across my floors. Off with your boots or you can eat here in the entryway.”

 

Thorin narrowed his eyes. He’d been awake for several hours before the sun came up and had traveled more miles this day than he wanted to put a number to, and that wasn’t even factoring in his dealings with Dain or the harassment he’d received from the guard he’d had to deal with at the district’s borders. He was tired and hungry and angry, on many different levels, and he was absolutely certain that punching this arrogant little shit could only make his day better.

 

_That’s not how a member of the royal line acts, though, is it?_

 

The thought wore his father’s voice - _patient and heavy with the gravity_ \- and he spent a moment focusing on the familiar ache of missing his father, rather than on the infuriating idea that was Bilbo Baggins. He closed his eyes, resisted the urge to clench his fist, and ran the back of his knuckles across his forehead in the same way he remembered his father doing.

 

The crowd, in the meantime, had become unnaturally quiet.

 

“Bilbo, my dear,” Greyhame’s voice broke through the sudden tension. “Thorin has traveled rather far to get here, this evening, and I’m sure that he’s had a trying day. Perhaps we could overlook the state of his footwear for this evening? Just this once?”

 

Baggins was a man of logic and reason. Every story that Thorin’s nephews had told had been full of examples of how level-headed -

 

“No, old man, _not_ this once. This is _my_ home and _I_ am the one who keeps it. I don’t care who it is you’ve invited - if he wants to step foot past this entry way, he’ll -”

 

A crash came from elsewhere in the house - _something glass breaking before something metal hit the floor_ \- and Thorin blessed the Valar for their timing. He opened his eyes in time to see Baggins glower at Fili and Kili - _who returned his malice with innocent confusion_ \- before he spun about and marched through the archway he’d been leaning against, muttering oaths as he went.

 

Thorin’s nephews shared an urgent look, before glancing at Thorin - _or Dwalin_ \- and nodding at one another. Kili followed after Baggins and most of the rest of the company trickled away as well. Fili, though, remained where he was.

 

Thorin waited for his eldest nephew to smile at him again before he arched an eyebrow. Fili’s flush deepened and he glanced at Dwalin before meeting Thorin’s gaze.

 

“He’s not used to having so much company all at once.” The blonde stood tall, wearing a lazy, if affectionate smile, while his eyes and his tone betrayed his concern. Standing like he was, Fili could’ve been his father, trying - _yet again_ \- to intercept Thorin before he spoke too harshly with one of the new recruits. In those moments, while the boy spoke, Thorin felt Hili’s loss more sharply than he had in years. “He didn’t even know how many of us to expect before Kili and I arrived, and the company.... Well, they haven’t exactly been gentle with him.”

 

Thorin frowned at his nephew, but Fili held his gaze and refused to look away. The space of several moments passed before Thorin lifted his gaze up to the ceiling and released his breath in a huff. “Greyhame can be trying at the best of times.”

 

Fili’s smile stretched into a grin. “Thank you, Uncle. I knew you’d understand.” He gave a respectful nod before he followed the path Baggins and Kili had taken.

 

A sharp elbow in his side brought Thorin’s attention back to Dwalin, who was wearing a scowl. “Ye spoil ‘em.”

 

Thorin gave a snort and knelt to better reach the laces on his boots. “Says the man who lets Kili crawl over him as if the brat were still toddling.”

 

Dwalin answered with a shove that nearly knocked Thorin over.

 

Thorin righted himself before sending a vulgar hand sign to his friend, but the man was focused on removing his own boots. Thorin stood, instead - _he had traveled too far today, he’d be sore in the morning_ \- and waited for Dwalin to finish.

 

Dwalin led the way, through two cluttered rooms, to two more rooms. A large table was in the first room, cleared off save for a handful of used napkins and a smattering of grease and crumbs. Gloin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had taken over the far end of the table, but the lot of them - u _sually the loudest of the company_ \- were quietly listening to Balin’s words. Gandalf was seated at the opposite end, closer to the kitchen, quietly enjoying a slice of pie. Ori - _twitching and fidgeting_ \- hovered in the doorway that led to the kitchen, where several voices spoke over each other.

 

Thorin moved to better see what was happening.

 

Baggins crouched on one side of the room, holding a brush and dustpan, and alternated between scowling at the broken shards of glass, half glaring in Nori and Dori’s direction, and fussing at Kili for picking up the slivers with his bare hands. Kili knelt beside the local, nodding appropriately as he was scolded, but not pausing in his work. Nori was farthest from the pair, leaning against a countertop on the other side of the room and cleaning his nails with one of his more impressive blades. He looked utterly bored and not the least bit guilty, flashing a grin and a wink at Thorin and Dwalin as they stepped into the doorway. Dori stood in front of Nori, making apologies and assurances, and shot the occasional annoyed glance over his shoulder to his brother. Fili stood between the Lorison brothers and the kneeling pair. His voice, when he spoke, was firm, but gentle - his words a polite accusation to counter Dori’s diplomatic soothing.

 

Thorin cleared his throat and all speech stopped. “Something wrong?”

 

Baggins opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again with a pleading look and a soft touch to the wrist from Kili. Curious. Nori had shifted when Baggins looked like he was going to speak, but relaxed when the local kept his piece.

 

Dori and Fili shared a look, but it was Fili who spoke.

 

“One of Mister Bilbo’s glass jars broke. We were discussing the circumstances.”

 

Thorin nodded - _didn’t confirm or deny an incident, wording and tone neutral, stance confident_ \- and glanced past the group to see Oin standing in the opposite doorway, looking mildly amused.

 

“The meeting will begin soon.”

 

Fili nodded, as did Dori, but as Dori left the room, with Nori at his heels, Fili turned to face Thorin and Dwalin, just as carefully relaxed as he had been in his discussions with Dori. Kili still knelt next to Baggins, the two of them making quick work of the remaining mess of broken glass, and Oin passed through the room quickly enough, but the expression on Fili’s face - _mild disapproval hiding beneath a facade of genteelness, the same expression he’d received countless times from Dis_ \- was what kept Thorin’s attention. It took a few moments - _Kili and Baggins’ work was nearly finished_ \- before Thorin realized that it was Dwalin who the look was intended for, something Dwalin was well aware of, if his restless fidgeting was anything to go by.

 

Thorin nudged his old friend and gave him a questioning glance, fully aware that Fili’s attention was still focused on the pair of them.

 

Dwalin smirked - _it faltered when Fili’s eyes narrowed, though_ \- and tapped his nose with his index finger.

 

Thorin nodded. He paused as the information sunk in, then grimaced. Dwalin had found an opportunity to punch Baggins and had taken it. The lads knew about this and disapproved. The Valar help him - this did not bode well for the traveling to come.

 

Fili sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, looking up to the ceiling as he did. It caught Kili’s attention immediately - _a new signal, perhaps_ \- who frowned and gave a wary glance at the two men they called uncle, but it attracted Baggins’ attention, as well.

 

Baggins’ expression melted into an affectionate smile. “Go on and get to the table. I'll plate some supper for this pair and be along in a moment.”

 

“It’s alright.” Kili’s frown bloomed into a grin as he spoke to Baggins. Thorin might’ve glared at how eager his nephews were to please the local, but Fili - _a bit protective of Baggins, he and his brother_ – was still watching. A quick glance from the corner of his eye told him that Dwalin was doing enough glaring for the both of them, anyway. “This discussion is a bit of an important matter and mostly for you. You go ahead and we’ll see to the food.”

 

Baggins glanced at Thorin, then at Dwalin, and then through the door where everyone else was now seated. After a moment, he shook his head. “No. I’ll handle the food, I think. The pair of you will be lucky if I let you anywhere near my crockery again, let alone in sight of a scone.” The sullen tone the man used was ruined by the way the corners of his lips turned upward.

 

The lads seemed to pick up on this, as well.

 

“Master Boggins, surely you wouldn’t be as cruel as that - we were only trying to help.” Kili spoke as if the local’s words had wounded him, clutching at the man’s forearm with feigned distress, but Fili began humming a tune that earned some laughter from those of the company that could hear it from the other room.

 

Dwalin gave a start as Fili began humming and looked over the lad with suspicious eyes. He didn’t seem to find what he was seeking, though, because he relaxed again and the only answer Thorin could pry from him was a slight shake of the head and a subtle hand sign for later.

 

“I certainly would!” Baggins sounded outraged, but didn’t pull himself free of Kili’s grasp. “Washing the dishes and seeing that they’re put away is one thing, but flinging my china about the house and mocking me through song is another matter altogether.” His scowl was shared between the two brothers in equal measure. “Now get yourselves from my kitchen and play at being proper hosts for once while I put some food together for your elders.” He took a step, cast a sidelong look at Thorin and Dwalin, and sniffed. “And take those two with you, I’m sure they’re eager enough to be seated.”

 

Thorin exchanged a dark look with Dwalin, before he allowed his nephews to usher him back to the dining room. He made sure to catch their attention as he sat, though, and made doubly sure that they understood just how displeased he was with the frustrating man that lingered in the other room.

 

Fili’s shoulders tensed at the look, nodding to acknowledge that he understood, while Kili stilled completely. The stillness only lasted the span of a breath before they were both fidgeting in the way that only they understood. When they’d finished their silent conversation, Fili met Thorin’s gaze and bowed his head, showing proper respect to his leader and uncle, but Kili pressed his lips firmly together and raised his chin, a defiant light in his eyes.

 

Thorin allowed himself a moment to marvel at how united they were and how well they played off of each other while communicating. When Fili took the throne - _after Erebor was reclaimed and Thorin stepped down from the crown_ \- Kili would be at his side, and the force they would present would be unstoppable.

 

The thought occurred to Thorin - _not for the first time_ \- that he was making a mistake, that he was taking his nephews - _sons in all but blood_ \- to their deaths, and he felt an unearthly chill crawl up his spine. It wasn’t a possibility that he could deny - _a leader had to consider every possible outcome_ \- but neither was it one that he could stand to linger over. He wasn’t sure if he could survive such a loss - _it would kill Dis_ \- but he didn’t think he could handle watching one brother struggle to live without the other, either. Their actions and thoughts seemed so aligned with each other that there were times that Thorin didn’t think it physically possible for them to function apart, let alone with one d-

 

Balin cleared his throat and gave Thorin a pointed look.

 

Thorin blinked and nodded, taking his seat at the head of the table. Dwalin sat to his left, followed by Balin, Dori, Oin, Bifur, and Bofur. To Thorin’s right, Fili took the first seat, but Kili skipped a chair before seating himself. Thorin frowned at Fili again - _Kili was already speaking in hushed tones with Ori_ \- but Fili only offered a benign smile in return. Ori followed after Kili, flanked by Nori, then followed by Bombur and Gloin. Gandalf now sat at the far end of the table, opposite Thorin.

 

Baggins entered the room, laid a warm plate of food before Thorin and Dwalin, set two baskets of scones on the table - _one at each end_ \- and then took the seat between Fili and Kili. The scones were descended upon almost as soon as Baggins’ hands let go of them, which surprised Thorin and brought an amused smirk to their host’s face. Bofur started up about Kili taking more than his share, but Kili only distributed the pastries out - _one each_ \- to Ori, Fili, Thorin and Dwalin, before sending a rude gesture toward his accuser.

 

Thorin caught Balin’s gaze and nodded, allowing his trusted friend and advisor to begin the discussion while he and Dwalin ate.

 

Balin looked up and down the table before bringing his gaze back to Baggins. “First, let me begin by reviewin’ a bit ‘f history. Eighteen years ago, Erebor was a growin’, prosperous district. Under the guidance ‘f King Thror, an’ then King Thrain -”

 

“Excuse me,” Baggins spoke up, a slight frown on his face. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but did you say ‘King Thror’? I knew Thror was a scientist, and I’ll admit that I don’t follow politics much, but I wasn’t aware he was a Durinson.”

 

Balin hummed and sent a sidelong glance to Thorin.

 

Thorin sighed, set down his fork - _the food was good, worth the praise the lads gave it_ \- and met Baggins’ gaze. “My grandfather -”

 

Baggins made a strangled sound and sent an accusatory look the table to Gandalf - _did the old man not tell him who he was hosting? manipulative bastard_ \- but Gandalf countered with a benign smile. Baggins’ look turned scathing, but the local replaced it with something more apologetic when his attention returned to Thorin.

 

“Sorry.”

 

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but continued. “My grandfather received the crown at the age of 42, after his father passed away. He had been groomed for the responsibilities of being king, but Thror’s true passion had always been science and its advancement. He ruled for twenty years, encouraging the expansion of our libraries and pioneering the latest scientific innovations. Under his reign, Erebor entered a golden age of enlightenment.” - _he could almost see the royal libraries, the halls so tall and wide that he’d been sure a dragon could’ve nested there comfortably_ \- “I was eighteen when Mahal was discovered and my grandfather passed the crown on to my father that same year.” - _Father and Grandfather shared a birthday and Mother laughed when she said that they both got their birthday wish_ \- “Mahal...” - _was the very source of his family’s ruin_ \- “Mahal was... is...” - _a bane, a curse, a blight_ \- Thorin struggled to keep a snarl from his voice as he tried to describe Mahal, but was saved by Balin’s intervention.

 

“Under the steel an’ the stone, deep in the heart ‘f the mountain, was found an energy source. It was potent an’ it burned clean an’ there seemed t’ be no limits t’ it. The ones who found it had the honor of namin’ it an’ they called it after one ‘f the gods ‘f old.” Balin’s voice had taken on the same lilt to it that it carried back when the lads were young enough to beg stories from their elders. “Mahal was hailed as the solution t’ the energy crisis an’ was thought t’ be able t’ provide power for every district in Middle Earth. With Thrain on the throne, Thror leadin’ our research, an’ a scientific miracle beneath our feet, Erebor saw such leaps in scientific advancement as had never been seen before. We worked out how t’ harness this new energy an’ used it t’ power our vehicles, our homes, an’ our communications. We also used it t’ power a defensive system designed t’ protect our borders. Created by Thror an’ the best strategic minds Erebor had t’ offer, it was the most complex, innovative defense Middle Earth had ever seen.” Balin paused. His eyes drifted to the window that sat behind Baggins, a distant look in them, and his voice was softer when he continued. “We had five years t’ learn an’ explore Mahal. Then _he_ came.”

 

A grumbling started up among the older members of the company, but died down as Balin began to speak again.

 

“Smaug Urulóki, with the help ‘f the traitor Girion Bowman of Dale, was able t’ infiltrate our defenses with a private army he called the Offensive Regimented Combat Squad.”

 

“Fucking O.R.C.S.,” Gloin spat and snarls erupted up and down the table in answer.

 

Thorin took a moment to clear his throat, when it looked as if the company wouldn’t be quieting itself, and Balin nodded to him before continuing.

 

“In a single night, Smaug an’ his O.R.C.S. completely overwhelmed us. We know not how, but he bought the loyalty ‘f those who had access t’ our gates an’ defenses. By the time his presence was known, our guard was overrun an’ Erebor was in the process ‘f fallin’ t’ an enemy we hadn’t thought t’ prepare for. Thror, in his wisdom, realized that if no action was taken, our defenses could be turned against us an’ so activated a failsafe that cut off all access to Mahal an’ the machines connected t’ it. In doin’ this, he ensured that though Erebor may ‘ve fallen, Smaug would never be able t’ claim his prize.” Balin paused again.

 

The atmosphere at the table was so heavy and tense that Thorin felt his appetite slip away from him. A sidelong look Dwalin’s way showed that he was frowning at his food, but that the giant of a man hadn’t slowed in his eating. Thorin kept eating as well. There was no sense in wasting good food.

 

“We lost Thror in the chaos ‘f that night, along with family an’ friends an’ a full third ‘f Erebor’s population. We lost Thrain and Frerin a week after that.”

 

Thorin set his fork down. - _he was clawing through the rubble, he couldn’t tell if he what he was hearing was the sound of gunfire or just the ringing in his ears, he needed to find Dis and get her and the younglings to safety, but his grandfather had been close to the building when it exploded, Thror had to be here somewhere_ \- There was food on his plate, still. He should finish it. - _he was sitting in a bar with Dwalin and Balin on either side and a dozen others around him, they were supposed to be discussing how to split up, what folk should go with who, but his father’s face was on the screen, as was his brother’s, and they wore matching bruises and Thorin couldn’t hear what was being said through the ringing in his ears, but he heard the sound of a blade biting through flesh and bone, and he heard it just as clearly the second time_ \- Thorin picked his fork up again and used it to stab a bit of meat. - _Smaug’s face was on the screen, wearing a beatific smile, and Thorin didn’t know which was going to make him vomit first, that son of a bitch calling himself a Durinson bastard or the sight of the monster Azog licking the blood of Thorin’s closest family off his blade_ \- Thorin set the fork down once more, harder than he probably should have.

 

Kili stood and reached silently for Thorin’s plate. Thorin stared up at him for a long moment - _Hili, mild, soft spoken Hili, would’ve slit his throat for even considering taking his lads on a suicide mission like this, maybe Dis should have_ \- before he nodded once and his plate was taken away.

 

Balin started up again as Kili left the room. “By the Valar’s grace, a third ‘f our folk managed t’ escape the chaos an’ the violence ‘f that night. The fate ‘f the remainin’ third ‘f our people is somethin’ we can only speculate on.” He paused to swallow, and if his voice was a touch more hoarse when he continued, no one made mention of it. “Those ‘f us who fled ‘ve faced hardships beyond the telling. There was no help or aide offered from any ‘f those whom we had once called allies an’ our folk were forced t’ wander from district t’ district, findin’ what work they could. When there was work t’ be had, it was frequently dangerous an’ menial, an’ when there was none t’ be found, we were forced t’ rely on the charity ‘f locals or retreat t’ the wastes for any shelter we could find.” Baggins looked to Fili, pity on his face, but Fili - _good lad_ \- didn’t meet his gaze. Kili chose that time to retake his seat and answered Baggins’ look of concern with a confused smile. “Eventually, most ‘f our people found sanctuary with our kinsmen in District Ered Luin. It’s put some strain on their economy, but we’re grateful that we ‘ve not yet been turned away.”

 

“It’s been eighteen years since Smaug took over District Erebor, an’ in all this time he has yet t’ work out how t’ access Mahal.” Balin wore a bit of a smirk now. It was a faint thing, but it was present and Thorin was glad to see it. “There’s no way ‘f knowin’ what use he’d ‘ve put Mahal to, had he been granted full access, but there’s information that leads us t’ believe that Smaug might ‘ve used Mahal t’ create weapons -”

 

Greyhame cleared his throat and when he spoke in the silence that followed Balin’s pause, his voice carried the weight of approaching thunder. “For the sake of all present, Mister Fundinson, I would not have you soften your words - not on this subject.”

 

Balin frowned, but nodded.

 

Baggins sat up a bit taller at this, eyes moving from Fili to Kili, and then to Ori. He was looking pale, his breath coming out with a forced evenness, and he shot a pleading glance to Thorin - though, what it was for Thorin couldn’t have said.

 

Thorin turned his eyes to Greyhame, instead of meeting the local’s gaze, and waited for the old man to speak.

 

“It is possible, using Mahal, to create a weapon so devastating that it would make pale every war and weapon that came before it.”

 

“M - Mister Greyhame, surely you don’t - you don’t mean that.” Ori’s voice broke through the silence. His nerves had to have been on edge for him to stutter so badly. “The G-Great War reshaped the very surface of M-Middle Earth!”

 

“The Great War,” Greyhame turned his attentions to his mug. “The war that cost us landmarks, as well as lives. The war that, over one hundred years ago, not only changed our borders and our politics, but forced us to redraw our maps. It was a war the likes of which Middle Earth had never known before and I pray that we will never know again.” Greyhame nodded. “It would be but a candle, though, compared to the destructive potential of a war powered by Mahal.”

 

The silence stretched on for a moment, but Balin hummed before it became too oppressive.

 

“No matter his intentions, Smaug’s been unable t’ access Mahal since he began his occupation ‘f Erebor.” Balin’s voice rang out clear once again. “He has, undoubtedly, been spendin’ a great deal ‘f effort trying t’ bypass the systems an’ protocols currently in place, but while that goes on he’s also dedicated himself t’ tryin’ t’ duplicate the technology developed for accessing Mahal. T’ accomplish this, he needed men ‘f learnin’ - he needed scientists, preferably those who already possessed knowledge ‘f Mahal an’ its workin’s. Smaug has spent the last eighteen years acquirin’ any an’ every scientist who’s ever worked with Mahal, even in passin’. He offered rewards, at first, t’ bribe those who knew the location ‘f his prey int’ speakin’, but, as time passed, he turned t’ threats an’ violence, instead.”

 

If Baggins was pale before, he was ashen now. His face was schooled to polite interest and he sat in his chair as if he were listening to Balin go on about his kin, rather than about a monster. If his pallor hadn’t betrayed him, Thorin might’ve thought Baggins to be unconcerned about the whole mess of it.

 

“It’s widely believed that Smaug has gotten ahold ‘f every person who’s ever worked on Mahal. Unfortunately for him, they’ve been unable t’ duplicate in eighteen years the progress that Thror made in five. This lack ‘f success has neither slowed nor stopped Smaug in his search for other scientists. It seems he’s convinced that if he searches long an’ hard enough, he’ll find the one person able t’ make all his efforts worthwhile.” Balin’s voice had softened once again and the look he cast on Baggins now was almost gentle. “In fact, his efforts ‘ve been so thorough an’ so widespread that if there were a single person, even a forgotten intern, who managed t’ slip his notice - well, that person could be considered terribly fortunate.”

 

Baggins nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth.

 

Kili and Fili shared a frown, and leaned into either side of the local for a moment before allowing him his space again. Only Fili cast a glance at Thorin afterward, perhaps unsure of how the gesture of comfort would be received, but Thorin gave him a slight nod and Fili seemed to relax.

 

Baggins seemed to appreciate the gesture. He offered a smile - _forced_ \- to both of them before sending a questioning look down the table to Greyhame. Greyhame nodded and Baggins mimicked.

 

“So,” Baggins licked his lips before speaking again. “The lot of you, you intend to...?”

 

“We intend to infiltrate Erebor and take back our home.”

 

Baggins was either not expecting those particular words or he wasn’t expecting Thorin to be the one to say them, judging by the way he startled. His facade of calm began to slip, his eyes wide as he looked from Thorin to Balin to Greyhame and back again.

 

“Infiltrate...” Baggins took a breath and scrubbed at his face. “You’re planning a coup - a small military force sneaking in and a quick and clean change in power. Just like he did to you, yes?” Thorin repressed a frown at being compared to the filth Smaug, but nodded. “Right. Very well.” Baggins nodded and seemed to fortify himself. “How many men are we talking about, then?”

 

All eyes at the table turned to Thorin at this point and he wished - _suddenly, desperately_ \- for the luxury of having something breakable to fling at the wall. Instead, he kept his shoulders back and his posture stiff. He clenched a fist and made sure to speak loud enough that none in the room would mistake him.

 

“Thirteen.”

 

Baggins nodded. “Hundred or thousand?”

  
“Thirteen. Just thirteen.”

 

Oaths flew up and down the table and Balin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. If he’d had the luxury of privacy, Thorin would’ve told his friend that the Valar weren’t listening to the begging and bribing of mortals - not today, at least.

 

It was a forced, desperate laugh that cut through the swearing that had filled the room.

 

“That’s funny, your highness, terribly funny.” There was something brittle in the local’s voice as he spoke. “I didn’t think you one for joking over matters like this, and I am no great strategist on even my best days, but even Smaug brought more men with him than are sitting in this room.” He paused to lick his lips and dropped the forced smile. There was a desperate, almost pleading look in his eyes when he spoke next. “You cannot hope to retake your home with only thirteen lives to gamble.”

 

Thorin struggled not to glare or snort at the smaller man. He had been expecting this reaction - this fear. Baggins was a man of science - _like Grandfather_ \- a man of learning. The background checks he had run all revealed a man who’s most violent tendency was to pay the local children to play on the neighbor’s lawn. Thorin frowned and let his gaze flicker to Kili’s forehead. It seemed he needed to find a better source of information for his background checks. Perhaps he needed to corner his nephews and discuss the meaning of _pertinent information_ with them, as well.

 

“There are times, my dear, when few can do what many cannot.” Again, Greyhame’s voice broke through the silence.

 

“There is a difference, _old man_ , between few and not enough.” Baggins retorted. “Yes, I imagine them capable enough to reach District Erebor undetected, and yes, with so few they’d have an easy time of slipping through its borders, but Smaug has a private army - one that vastly outnumbers them! And then, assuming they’re able to assassinate Smaug and banish the O.R.C.S., they’ll still be stuck in the same position Smaug was in! No one can access Mahal - not anymore.”

 

“They will not, in fact, be _stuck_ , as they will have something that Smaug does not possess.” Greyhame offered a smug smile and reached into a pocket to produce a bulky, rough-hewn iron key. He held the key up so that all at the table to could see it and then tossed it to where Thorin sat.

 

Thorin caught the key easily, surprised at its lack of weight. The old man had come to him, had told him that now was the time to act if he wished to return home, and had promised to deliver to him the key to defeating Smaug. Thorin had thought that the old man meant Baggins, not an actual key. He was hard pressed to think of any lock in Erebor that would open for such a crudely made key. He turned the key over, examining it carefully, before he cast a questioning look back at the Greyhame.

 

“This key,” the old man continued. “Was given to me by Thror nineteen years ago today. It is part of a series of measures he devised to keep Mahal out of hands that would abuse it. In the event that something terrible should happen, he would, in a sense, close the door to his project and it would lock itself against all access. The option to enter a password would be provided, three attempts allowed every thirty days, but every answer, even a correct one, would be declared a failure without the device you now hold in your hands.”

 

“He disguised the key _as a key_!” Bofur blurted out, wearing a wide grin.

 

“Indeed he did, Mister Kafurson. Quite the clever idea, I should think.”

 

Thorin surged to his feet, vaguely aware of the clatter the chair made as it fell to the floor, and nearly growled at the old man. He felt a vicious stab of pleasure to see the smile wiped off Greyhame’s face and ignored how quiet and still his company had suddenly become.

 

Thror, his own grandfather, had entrusted this old man - _this outsider_ \- with something of such importance and never said one word to him about it? And Greyhame! The bastard had kept this treasure, had kept this information from him - _kept it secret_ \- for nineteen damned years?

 

“This... _key_.” Thorin ignored the ringing in his ears and focused his full attention on the source of his fury. “You’ve had this key for near two decades and this is the first you speak of it?”

 

Balin began to speak, but Thorin brought his fist down upon the wooden table as hard as he could. He would not stand for any soothing - not at this moment. He kept his eyes locked on Greyhame’s and waited for his answer.

 

“You were in mourning, Thorin Durinson, and the fate of your people hung upon your shoulders. There was no opportunity for action and I hesitated to provide you with what could only be, at that time, a distraction.” Greyhame’s voice was even, carefully neutral.

 

“ _Lies!_ ” Thorin struck the table again. “I’d never let anything come before the safety of my people! If you’d shared this information with us in the beginning, we could’ve spent this time planning more accurately. We could’ve had eighteen years to work out how to get past Smaug and into the rooms my grandfather worked in! Eighteen years to guess at the damned password! Now we have a handful of months, if that.”

 

Without moving a muscle, something fundamental about Greyhame seemed to change. His eyes became hard and his frowned seemed suddenly severe. The very air around the old man seemed to vibrate with something bordering on menace.

 

“I have lived a very long time, Mister Durinson. I have seen governments rise and fall; I have seen births and deaths beyond number; and I have seen both the kindest and the cruelest acts humanity is capable of. There are many things that I have done in my time, and there are some that I am not proud of, but, of these things, not one of them includes lying. I may avoid questions and I may keep my council to myself, but I do not lie. So if I tell you, Mister Durinson, that the time for sharing this information with you was not appropriate until now, then you will have to take me at my word.” The words rang heavy in the air, but a moment later the dangerous aura that had surrounded the old man evaporated and his tone was almost cheerful again. “Balin, my friend, if you would?”

 

Balin shifted and looked to Thorin, subtle concern in his eyes.

 

Thorin released a heavy breath and nodded. He motioned for Balin to continue while he picked up his chair and retook his seat.

 

“Mister Baggins, you’re correct in that there are few ‘f us an’ many who serve Smaug, but we‘ve planned appropriately. If we ‘re able t’ re-access Mahal, if we had someone with us who knew its workings an’ temperaments, then we could reactivate Erebor’s defensive systems an’ our chances for success would be all the higher for it!”

 

Baggins shook his head. His hands were trembling and he had a dazed look in his eyes. “I’ve - I’ve never been to Erebor before, though. I only know theory - lots and lots of theory.” He dropped his gaze down to his hands, which were busy fretting a napkin.

 

Balin smiled, and shook his own head. “You have the knowledge ‘f how it works, though. You’ve spoken with those who ‘ve worked with it directly an’ you’re familiar with the equations an’ formulas that were used in puttin’ it together an’ makin’ it run – an’ you’re the only one that Smaug has not yet grasped. As much as we don’t know the fate ‘f those citizens that remain trapped behind Erebor’s walls, the fate ‘f the scientists is even less certain. They may be healthy an’ well cared for or they may be psychologically broken, mere shadows ‘f the people they used t’ be. They may even be dead.” He hesitated and lowered his gaze. “We need someone that we know we can count on, Mister Baggins. We need you.”

 

Baggins was breathing faster again, and his gaze was darting about the whole room. He brought his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose - _the same action that Fili had taken earlier_ \- and shook his head again. “No. No, no, no.” He looked at Balin, eyes pleading and voice brittle once more. “You don’t even know me. The lot of you don’t even know me. How did you know to trust me? Did you listen to Gandalf? Did you believe what he said? How could you - Why would Smaug - Why would anyone hide from him for so long and then reveal themselves now? To total strangers? How could you believe that this was anything but a trap?” Baggins shook his head as he spoke, his words coming out fast and Harsh.

 

Greyhame looked almost pained, but kept his silence, as did most of the rest of the group. No one, Thorin noticed, met the locals gaze save for Greyhame and himself.

 

“It was us.” Fili’s voice was too loud in the silence. His posture was rigid, but his head was lowered, eyes firmly fixed on the place where his plate once rested. “We found your papers, the ones in the study. We told Uncle Thorin.”

 

“Wha -” Baggins’s mouth gaped and he looked at Fili as if he was seeing him for the first time. He turned to Kili and shook his head.

 

“We didn’t mean to, Master Boggins,” Kili placed a hesitant hand on the local’s shoulder. “It was an accident. We were looking for that book - the one on computer programing - and it wasn’t on the shelf and we thought maybe it was under those papers on your desk and so we moved them around a little and... and we didn’t mean to, Master Boggins, but we had to tell Uncle Thorin - just to be safe, you understand? We... we had to.”

 

Baggins stood abruptly, though, not so fast that he knocked over his chair. His face was dangerously pale and his knuckles were bone white with how tight he had his fists clenched. He lifted his head and fixed a wild look on Thorin.

 

“We’re sorry, Mister Bilbo,” Fili spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. “We never meant to break your trust.”

 

Baggins shook his head and patted Fili’s shoulder with his near hand, but didn’t look away from Thorin. Thorin would’ve shifted if his self-control had been any less. He couldn’t decide if the sharpness in Baggins’ eyes was accusation or desperation.

 

“Sloppy, that,” Bofur murmured. “Leavin’ papers of that sort out for anyone t’ read.”

 

Baggins blinked and turned to Bofur, frowning. “I - I didn’t...”

 

“They weren’t just out in the open,” Kili shouted. “They were under a bunch of other papers and we wouldn’t have even seen them if we hadn’t been messing about at his desk! Don’t you -”

 

Kili’s protest was cut short when Baggins moved, rather suddenly and rapidly, toward the floor. Fili’s fast reactions kept the man from injuring himself on the table, but it was a close call.

 

Fili, Kili, Ori and Oin immediately took to fussing over their host, while the rest of the table shifted uncomfortably. _Bofur seemed to be feeling particularly bad, but Nori looked more amused than anything_.

 

Thorin, quite deliberately, rested his elbows on the table in front of him and hid his face in his hands. This day was obviously going about as well for Baggins as it was for him. He briefly entertained the notion of having a fainting spell of his own, but his thoughts were interrupted by movement at his side.

 

Dwalin had stood and looked to be about to make his way back to the kitchen.

 

Thorin frowned, glanced at his nephews - _still frantic_ \- then back to his friend. _Purpose_ , he signed.

 

Dwalin didn’t pause in his stride. _Sweet snack._

 

It was a struggle not to smile, but Thorin managed it. _Me, too._

Dwalin nodded and slipped unseen into the kitchen.

  
Thorin hid his face in his hands once again. The lads had been right about one thing. It might have been worth traveling to District Shire just for the taste of those damned scones.


	7. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes fear stands in our way. Sometimes it pushes us forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Ghost Towns by Radical Face. And remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual.

Bilbo opened his eyes and, for a moment, was able to convince himself that the whole awful, horrid experience had been a dream.

 

He was sitting in his favorite chair with his smallest throw pillow tucked just so between his face and where the back of the chair curled forward. The fire was going and he could smell his tea - _chamomile_ \- from where it sat on the side table. Gandalf sat across from him, a cup of his own in hand and eyes fixed on the fire as if he were willing it to reveal its deepest secrets.

 

Bilbo sighed and reached for his mug.

 

He pitied the poor flames, actually. It was quite inevitable that they’d offer all of their most dear and personal secrets up to the old man. He’d share those secrets, of course, years later and without permission, to a group of utter strangers - and all for some grander purpose he wouldn’t bother explaining beforehand. He debated warning the fire of the dangers of trusting the old fool, but his movement seemed to have attracted Gandalf’s attention.

 

“Ah, you’re awake.” His words were warm and his smile was kind, but it was the caution in the old man’s eyes that pleased the darker corners of Bilbo’s mind.

 

Bilbo blew softly at his tea and took a careful sip. “So it seems.”

 

Gandalf blinked, then frowned and sighed.

 

The silence stretched on between the two, interrupted only by the soft sounds of movement from the other room - _dining room and kitchen, most likely, there won’t be any sweets left in the house by morning_ \- and Bilbo was content to let it grow, especially as Gandalf was looking more uncomfortable the longer it drew out. The old man finally seemed to have enough of not speaking and opened his mouth to speak, but Bilbo took that moment to bring his tea to his lips once more.

 

He’d known Gandalf his whole life, it seemed, and the old man had a few quirks that he would not deviate from for any prize. One of them just happened to be that the old man would avoid, if at all possible, starting any sort of serious conversation if either he or his conversational partners were partaking of any sort of food or drink.

 

He was sure, though, that it was merely a matter of ill timing that had the old man opening his mouth to speak each time Bilbo happened to want another sip of his tea. The misfortune happened a number of times before Gandalf seemed to find the end of his patience.

 

“Bilbo, my dear -”

 

“Gandalf, old man.” Oh no. Bilbo would not be tolerating any well-meant but manipulative coddling from the old bastard, not tonight.

 

The old man huffed - _a huff, that was a victory in and of itself_ \- and his frown turned reproachful. Bilbo was quick to hide his smirk.

 

“Really, now? I’d taken you to be bit old for this sort of behavior, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

And just like that, Bilbo’s amusement was gone. “Oh, did you? That’s fair. I’d taken you for the sort to give a fellow proper warning before springing a suicide mission on him.” He offered a genial smile - _the same one he normally reserved for the Lobelia_ _cunt_ \- and took another sip of his tea. “Of course, I’d also taken you for the sort to provide proper notice before inviting a small army of strangers over for supper, and the sort to keep silent on a secret you swore to hold, but just look what that led to.”

 

“I had my reasons for choosing the actions that I did.” Gandalf’s eyes were narrow and his frown was severe, but his tone was still gentle.

 

Bilbo snorted. “I bet you did.”

 

The old man shifted and turned his gaze back to the fire. “I could not be certain that you would react appropriately had I -”

 

“You mean you did not trust that I would do what you wanted me to.” Bilbo sat up straighter and gripped his mug tightly lest he accidently - _throw_ \- drop it. He made careful to keep his voice low, though, even if he didn’t take the same care to ensure his tone was even. “You manipulated me, Mister Greyhame, and though you may be my family in all but blood - I will not tolerate being prodded and handled into doing whatever it is you want, no matter your reasons.”

 

Gandalf’s shoulders fell and he sat back in - _his chair_ \- the chair with a sigh. “They need you, Bilbo. They cannot accomplish this task without you.”

 

“I know.” Bilbo nodded and took a long sip from his now cool tea - _the old man’s preferences be damned_ \- before he continued. “As strongly as I feel about you betraying my trust, you wouldn’t have done it for anything less than worthy cause. And this lot doesn’t exactly seem the sort to make themselves so vulnerable unless they have to.” He dropped his eyes to his own mug, nearly empty now, and turned it in his hand. “This isn’t a game, though, Gandalf. This isn’t some lark where I leave the comforts of hearth and home to go on an adventure chasing after some pile of gold. This isn’t even just a matter of life and death for me. If I do this and it goes badly, _he_ might get ahold of me. I’ll be, best case scenario, a prisoner, and worst case... I’d rather not think of that right now.”

 

The silence stretched on again, but this time Bilbo was as uncomfortable in it as Gandalf was.

 

Gandalf stood, after a time. “I will leave you to your thoughts, then, I think, and cease my meddling for the night.” He paused as he passed Bilbo’s chair and rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I am sorry for any distress that I have caused you. You are like family to me, Bilbo, and I would not be asking this of you if there were any other way.”

 

Bilbo felt his throat tighten and he nodded, patting the old man’s hand before it slipped from his shoulder. He turned his own eyes to the fire and tried to imagine the flames burning all his fears to ashes. It did nothing to change reality, he knew from experience, but he couldn’t count the times that picturing Lobelia’s home going up in flames brought a smile to his face.

 

“More tea?”

 

Bilbo startled and whipped his head around, causing some nerve in his neck to give a sharp twinge.

 

Fili and Kili stood at the entrance to the den, Kili with a plate of scones and Fili with the small tea tray, and seemed to wait for an invitation to come closer.

 

Bilbo put a hand to the sore muscle and motioned them in, trying to make his smile more welcoming as he did so.

 

Fili approached and refilled Bilbo’s mug with his free hand - _a parlor trick, the blonde had told him years ago, a clever show earns better tips at the tea house_ \- while Kili set two of the scones on Bilbo’s saucer.  The pair of them then set the plate - _still possessing a healthy number of the scones_ \- and the tea tray at the edge of the hearth before taking their seat. He half expected the both of them to try squeezing into Gandalf’s chair again - _they’d grown too much for that, filled in and lost that underfed look they had worn the first time they came to him_ \- but Fili took the chair, instead, and Kili sat on the floor at Fili’s feet without complaint.

 

Bilbo took a long sip of tea - _Fili’s mind was sharp, to remember how Bilbo took his tea after so long_ \- and looked them over. They were nervous - _Fili’s hand was in his brother’s hair and Kili was fiddling with the laces of his brother’s boot_ \- but weren’t being shy about showing it. It gave them a younger, more vulnerable look.

 

“We weren’t trying to mislead you, Master Boggins. You know that, right?” Kili cleared his throat and shifted. “Not by hiding our names or by... by.... We didn’t have a choice - about telling Uncle about the plans, after we’d found them. Not a real choice. We’ve spent our whole lives being so careful and we never mean to hurt anyone and -”

 

Bilbo set his cup down as Kili’s voice began to break and leaned forward, taking the young man’s hands in his. “I know, I know - no worries, now.” He took one of the scones from his plate and pressed it into Kili’s hands. Kili broke the treat in half and passed the other portion to Fili, who accepted it without remark. “You had ample opportunity to do me harm when you were here last, if that had been your intentions, and if not then, then in the years since.”

 

Rather than looking reassured, Kili’s expression became miserable and hid his face in the crook of Fili’s knee. Fili took to running his hand through his younger brother’s hair, his other hand still occupied with half a scone, and took over the task of speaking.

 

“The Durinsons have ruled the mountain since the sun first shined, the way Mum tells it. We weren’t always called Durinsons and the mountain wasn’t always called Erebor, but our blood is as old as the mountain itself and it’s because of this that the Durinsons rule over the mountain.” He made a soft sound - _and tugged at Kili’s hair_ \- and the younger of the brothers shifted to rest his chin on Fili’s knee. “The people of District Erebor elected their representatives and voted on the laws and regulations that they lived by, but we were their leaders - we were the ones that watched over the land and the people in it. Mum said that having the government set up like we did allowed us to be more like beloved aunts and uncles, rather than overbearing parents.”

 

“The crown is hereditary - goes to the eldest, or whoever they pass it to - and with Grandfather... gone, it went Uncle. I think that Uncle never meant to take the crown - he had joined the military with Mister Dwalin as soon as they were of age - but he was all they had when the refugees were looking for someone to turn to.”

 

“Uncle did the best that he could. He divided everyone up so that there were some that could protect with each unit and he sent each unit to a different area, so that if anyone was taken in the strain wouldn’t be as bad. No one would take us in, though, not for long at a time. It didn’t help that Azog put out the bounties, either.” Fili paused. “Do you know much of the city that was called Gundabad?”

 

Bilbo shook his head. “A little, not much.”

 

Fili nodded, but didn’t begin speaking again. Kili pressed a gentle elbow into his brother’s shin before he started up. “There’s bad blood between us and the Mágol’s. It’s a long story and we’ll tell it to you another time.” Bilbo nodded, keeping his silence. “The bounties that were put out, they’re for anyone called Durinson. Dead or alive, except for Uncle. They want him alive.” Kili hesitated, frowning at the fire. “Don’t know why. Our family, if you only count by name, is small. There’s only the two of us, Mum, and Uncle. I don’t remember much of the early days, but I know that it was rough for Uncle. He had to worry over where the different units were and where he could send them next and where our unit was - he tried to keep Mum and us close at first - and then having to worry about being recognized. There weren’t a lot of jobs, either, so we always had to keep moving. I can’t think of a city in all of Middle Earth - save for in Mordor or Azanulbizar - that we don’t know.” He smiled as he spoke, the pride in his posture countered by the shadows in Fili’s eyes. “We were always careful about where we stayed and who we told our names to, but sometimes we had to pick up and leave in the middle of the night. Still, it wasn’t so bad - not til Mum got sick.” Kili was watching the fire again, resting his cheek on his brother’s leg. “It seemed like it happened overnight - one day she was fine and the next she was coughing so hard.” He swallowed. “It was a bit rough.”

 

Fili brought his other hand to Kili’s hair - _was he trying to braid it?_ \- and took up speaking again. “Uncle split us up from Mum then. Sent Mum off to Ered Luin and us to whoever was able to handle two kids stepping on their heels. It was probably for the best, actually. The company, they became our extended family and each of them had something different to teach us. It helped with earning money, with understanding how people work, with surviving.” He glanced up to meet Bilbo’s gaze momentarily. “I’m next in line for the crown, if Uncle falls. If I fall, then it goes to Kili.” The youth in question fidgeted suddenly and Fili paused long enough to thump his brother’s shoulder before he continued.

 

“Our father, he fell with Erebor.” Fili’s voice was flat now and he kept his eyes fixed on his brother’s hair. “I remember him some, mostly just the sound of his laugh or the smell of his shaving soap, but Kili doesn’t even have that. There are times I think I remember Erebor, too, but it’s hard to tell if they’re actual memories or just the stories that we’ve been told so many times.” He paused to swallow. “The point is, the company is our family - our unit - and everything we’ve ever done was for them or for Mum or Uncle.”

 

Kili took up talking again, but his voice was soft and his gaze stayed fixed on the fire. “We grew up knowing what Mahal was - had to. We didn’t know all the details, not til we were older, but we knew enough. We knew about how it was a cursed thing - offering shining promises with one hand, while it beckoned enemies with the other.” The younger man’s eyes narrowed and he frowned as he spoke. It wasn’t a look that Bilbo was comfortable seeing on the youth’s face, but he held his peace. “When we - when we came across the information about Mahal, in your study, we knew we had to tell Uncle.” Kili reached out to start fiddling with the hem of Fili’s pant leg and when he risked a glance up he was wearing another of his forced smiles. “It wasn’t - we didn’t think we couldn’t trust you - it wasn’t that. It’s just that we’d never prepared for that sort of thing, we’d never run into a situation like that before, and we couldn’t just call up Uncle and ask what to do, you know? We knew that you were good, but we needed to talk to Uncle before we did anything, and Dwalin and Balin were supposed to take us to see Uncle next, anyway, so we thought... we just... we spoke to him about it once we reached him and it was safe.”

 

Fili spoke again, his voice quiet but steady. “We told Uncle about the papers. We told Uncle about you. We’re the reason the company knows to trust you,” he paused to wet his lips. “But we never meant to break your trust. We just wanted you to know that.”

 

Bilbo nodded, humming softly to show that he understood. He leaned forward to refill his tea, to take a few scones, and the silence stretched between them.

 

It wasn’t that he wanted to leave the boys twitching for an answer, he just didn’t know what to do with all the information he’d received. These boys - _his boys_ \- were Durinsons, exiled from Erebor and raised on the streets of a dozen or so different districts, with not one of them home. They’d grown up knowing hunger and loss and fear, all because of one power-hungry wyrm of a man and his private army. And now their Uncle - _their king_ \- was leading a mission to reclaim their district, the place that they should’ve called home. It was almost too much to believe.

 

Bilbo set his plate of scones back, untouched, and wrapped both hands around his - _his mother’s_ \- mug.

 

“Here in District Shire, a person is considered a legal adult after they’ve reached their twentieth year.” He heard one of the two boys - _Kili_ \- snort, but kept his eyes fixed on his drink. “Five years of primary school, starting in a youngling’s fifth year, and another five years of secondary school follows that. This allows those that want it the time to start and finish an undergraduate education before they come of age.” He took a sip of his tea and grimaced. Too sweet. “I graduated a year before my peers and had just completed my undergraduate work when M- Mah-” He took another gulp of his tea and a steady breath to calm his nerves. “When Mahal was found. Gandalf’s been a friend of the family for longer than I remember, so I grew up listening to him and Mother discussing all sorts of science and engineering theories. It was his influence that led me to focus my studies on power and energy engineering. It was also his influence that brought me to Thror’s attention.”

 

He chanced a look up to find that he had the complete attention of both brothers now. He looked away, scanning the room briefly before focusing on his tea again.

 

“I... I was eighteen at the time. Gandalf told me that a friend of his was working on a project - some new energy source that I hadn’t heard of before - and would I like to help them as they figured out how it worked?” He allowed himself a bit of a smile. “I was just tickled to be included.” He shifted in his chair again. “Thror, Gandalf’s friend, didn’t do too much talking about himself. I spoke with him, along with Gandalf and two or three others, a few times a week via the vidcom. Not even my own vidcom, either, it was my parents’ vidcom.” He shook his head. “What we did - it never felt like work. We bounced ideas around and ran hypothetical numbers through equations and it was - it was fun. I wasn’t paid - I don’t even think I was listed as an intern - but I didn’t care. And then Thror started talking about hiring me once I finished my graduate work and I think I was saying yes before he finished his question.” A soft laugh escaped him. “He said to me, ‘Don’t you want to discuss your salary?’ So I asked him if I’d be doing the same or something different. He told me that the only change would be that I’d have to relocate to District Erebor. I couldn’t believe that he was actually going to pay me to... to... to have fun. I told him as long as I had a bed to sleep in and three meals a day, I didn’t care how much he paid me.”

 

Bilbo knew that he probably looked a bit silly, grinning like he was, but he hadn’t had anyone to share these memories with in what felt like ages.

 

“He was a good man, a good friend. I was supposed to go to the district for a visit - meet Thror in person, see the labs and the library. Never did get the chance.” He felt his smile began to slip. “Smaug’s takeover of Erebor - it was surreal at first. It felt like some vidfic you could watch on the telly. I remember understanding that the situation was real and dire, but at the same time I found myself waiting for the reporters to explain that it was all just a misunderstanding or some sort of a publicity stunt.” He licked his lips before he remembered that he still had tea in his cup. He grimaced again at the sweetness. “Then Smaug started... he started... collecting everyone up.” He felt his palms become clammy and fought the urge to wipe them on his pant legs. “He was rather calm about the whole thing at first. He would smile and his explanations were terribly rational. He had a pleasant voice, too - I don’t imagine anyone’s ever mentioned that to you, did they?” Both boys shook their heads. “He was young, too - older than you were when you first came to me, but younger than you are now.” Bilbo nodded. “He offered rewards and incentives at first. Some of the scientists - they went back voluntarily. But, just like Mister.... Mister, um-”

 

“Balin.” Fili’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in ages. “Mister Balin.”

 

“Yes, Mister Balin.” Bilbo nodded his thanks. “Just like he was saying, Smaug wasn’t satisfied with just a few of those who had worked on... on Thror’s project. He wanted all of them - every single one.” He took a shaking breath and continued. “Time passed and his methods, they became more violent, more desperate... bribes turned into threats and threats turned into... into reality. Bounties were put out, and paid. The worst part of all of it, though, was that the bounties weren’t being collected by strangers. No, most of the money was being paid to coworkers and friends - sometimes even family.” Bilbo paused again. He closed his eyes. He opened his mouth - _he’d waited, eighteen long years he’d waited to see who would betray him_ \- but nothing came out. No words - _Gandalf, to think it had been Gandalf, of all people_ \- no sounds - _it wasn’t the same, he knew that, he was safe here, safe from Smaug, safe from the world_ \- no breath - _but **he told** , Gandalf told, he told he told he told_ \- nothing.

 

The touch of a hand on his leg startled Bilbo out of his thoughts. He blinked.

 

Kili was leaning forward, hand pressed lightly to Bilbo’s shin, but both boys were watching him closely. There was concern in their eyes, and perhaps a bit of caution, but mostly warmth.

 

Bilbo smiled and allowed Kili to take his mug and set it on the tea tray. “Sorry for that,” he murmured. “Got a bit lost, there, for a moment.”

 

Kili retreated so that he was sitting at Fili’s feet again, but answered with a smile of his own and slight shake of his head. Fili’s smile was more strained, but he shook his head as well.

 

“It’s no trouble, Mister Bilbo,” Fili’s voice was low and soft.

 

Kili shifted, a bit of his older brother’s pant leg held tight in one hand, and Fili slid one of his hands into his younger brother’s hair again. The pair shared a single, questioning look with each other, but kept their silence. If not for the soft sounds coming from the closer rooms, Bilbo might have fooled himself into believing that it was just him and his two boys enjoying another quiet evening.

 

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t an unpleasant thing. Bilbo spent the time sorting through his thoughts and trying to absorb all the information he’d been given. What the two brothers spent the silence thinking on, Bilbo didn’t know, but they alternated between tugging and nudging each other in that absent way of theirs.

 

Bilbo allowed himself a moment to wonder what his life would’ve been like if he’d had a brother, or a sister. He wondered if he’d have been as close with them as Fili and Kili were with each other - if he’d have a secret language to share with someone that knew him better than anyone else, and to what lengths he’d have gone through to ensure that his sibling remained safe and unharmed. He thought back to his guests and what he’d seen of each of them, of all the inside jokes and hand gestures they’d thrown around - _as if he wouldn’t see them, honestly_ \- and wondered what was waiting for them at District Erebor that was worth risking their lives - _their family_ \- for. What was waiting for him?

 

The answer to that last one was painfully simple. Smaug. The very same man who Bilbo had spent nearly the past two decades hiding from and quaking in fear from. That was what was waiting for him in Erebor. If he went on this mission, and it succeeded... No more Smaug.

 

Something twinged in Bilbo’s chest at that thought. He swallowed and nodded.

 

Yes. If accompanying this bunch of rag-tag soldiers meant getting rid of Smaug forever, then yes, it would be worth the risk. For him, at least.

 

“Master Boggins?”

 

Bilbo pulled his eyes up to meet Kili’s gaze and smiled, nodding again. “Yes.”

 

Kili’s eyes widened and the shadow of a grin flickered across his face - _and wasn’t Bilbo an old fool if he thought he wouldn’t be willing to go along with all this just on the off chance that he could save these two rascals from what trouble he could_ \- but he glanced back at Fili as he spoke, all the same. “Yes?”

 

“Yes, I’ll go.”

 

Fili laughed and Kili whooped and, before Bilbo knew it, he was being pulled up from his chair and hugged just on the near side of too tightly.

 

The commotion drew the attention of the others and it wasn’t long before the sitting room saw more company. Fili and Kili drew back almost immediately as their uncle and his friend - _listening in the whole time, he’d wager, probably hung off the door frames_ \- stepped into the den from the direction of the dining room. Bilbo had enough time to straighten out his vest before Gandalf - _meddling old codger_ \- joined them, entering from the living room.

 

He raised an eyebrow at Mister Durinson and the elder of the two Fundinsons, but didn’t bother hiding his frown from Gandalf. If he found out his friend had been listening in, he’d box the old man’s ears - never mind how aged Gandalf was.

 

Gandalf responded with a pleased smile - _as he always did whenever Bilbo made a decision he agreed with_ \- and took in the rest of the room before letting his eyes return to Bilbo. “So, you’ve decided, then?”

 

Mister Durinson stiffened - _only along his shoulders, and only just slightly, but it was an action he’d seen echoed in both the boys_ \- but his face remained passive and neutral. If Mister Fundinson was concerned with Bilbo’s answer he did a much better job of hiding it. His posture was relaxed and he even wore a polite smile. The boys only grinned - _and didn’t they look so much younger when they smiled like that?_ \- but Kili had started bouncing on his toes and even Fili’s eyes were sparkling with their excitement.

  
“Yes,” he licked his lips and glanced at the boys again - _trying to steal some of their courage, some of their naive excitement_ \- before he nodded. “I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like the style of the story? Would you maybe like a bit of story (Tolkien-verse, of course) written just for you? There's an auction going on right now (June 23 to 29) here (http://tumblcontolkien.livejournal.com/6955.html) where you can buy a commission from us! All the proceeds go to funding DashCon, a convention for Tumblr Folk that will see it's first ever appearance (in the USA) next year! I won't cry if you go check it out (neither will Smalls).


	8. Echo One Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes family is born of blood and sometimes it's born of circumstance, but family is family and there's little that can change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Kill Your Heroes by AWOLNATION. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual.

Ori opened his eyes and blinked several times. It took a few moments before recognition sunk in - _Mister Bilbo’s house, dinner had been as good as Fili and Kili had promised, but the conversation afterward had been more intense than he had expected_ \- and he allowed himself to relax.

 

Across the room – _only a guest room, but_ _bigger than most of the rooms he’d stayed in growing_ \- lay Dori, still sound asleep. He was - _absurdly_ \- proud of the fact that he could still wake, dress, and leave the room without waking his oldest brother. It was a skill that had taken years of careful self-discipline to master, but it had been worth it.

 

He put his skills to use and readied himself for the day. He remade his bed as neatly as he could and set his backpack and duffel bag next to the door for easy grabbing. He sent one last glance at the eldest Lorison - _still sleeping, his alarm should go off in thirty to forty-five minutes_ \- and slipped out the door.

 

Ori paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light that managed seep into the hallway of his host’s home and reviewed everything he knew about the cozy, under-hill abode. He’d dug up blueprints of the place a month or so ago and forwarded them to his more adventurous brother, as requested, but not before he’d spent some time studying the layout himself. It had been one of Nori’s first lessons - _passed along to him through Fili and Kili, as so many of the early ones were_ – that if time and resources permit, one should know their terrain. Know what rooms were where, know the locations of the stairs and windows, as well as where they lead to, and know the fastest and safest ways out of any building. If there was time for it, learn all the perilous ways, too. It was always better to have a plan or five in place and have no need for any of them, rather than to find yourself trapped in a fire, or worse. What information the blueprints didn’t provide, Ori had gotten from Fili and Kili.

 

Speaking of the Durinson Duo....

 

His eyes had adjusted as much as they were going to and he glanced up and down the hallway to gather his bearings. There was an open doorway a bit down the hall to his left that should be a bathroom, which meant that the room his friends were in should be in the stretch of hall to his right, five doors down along the right hand wall, with a painting of someone fishing - _possibly, the brothers had been vague about the details_ \- hanging on the door.

 

Right, then.

 

He padded as quietly as he could down the hallway, pausing with each creak or sigh that the strange building produced. He found the door he was seeking quickly enough - _the painting was of a cluttered garage, there was a fishing pole and tackle box prominently positioned, but no fish or water to be seen_ \- and he took the time to listen for any other signs of life in the house before he softly tapped out the signal that it was him at the door and not some ill-intentioned stranger. He paused for a moment, then twisted the doorknob and slipped into the room.

 

This room was even bigger than the one that he and Dori had slept in. There were two beds, two dressers, and one large desk - _decorated with a handful of books and some loosely scattered papers_ \- that bore 2 chairs. No closets that he could see and no other doors leading in or out, but there were two large windows that seemed to face north.

 

Despite the presence of two beds in the room, both halves of the Durinson Duo were currently occupying the bed to the left. It was a smart decision, not immediately in view as the door was opened or from anyone standing outside the windows. The other bed held two packs and an assortment of baubles that the brothers must’ve unpacked and left out before going to sleep. The very fact that the pair hadn’t tucked their possessions away or kept their packs in reaching distance spoke more to him than any of the stories they’d told - _and retold_ \- in the five years since they’d last been here.

 

Carefully, and still as light on his feet as he could be, Ori snuck closer to his friends.

 

The two had managed to take up completely different parts of the bed - _Fili was closer to the head of the bed, one hand tucked under his pillow and the other tangled in his brother’s hair, while Kili gravitated more toward the foot, a shapeless lump under the comforter_ \- and yet still be entangled with each other. It brought a fond smile to Ori’s face and he chewed at his lower lip while he debated which of the two he should wake first.

 

An idea came to him. It was only a moment or two before he was wearing a smirk and, without further ado, he flung himself onto the bed, doing his best to avoid landing anywhere delicate.

 

Fili’s eyes shot open with grunt, although he seemed to forgive the rude awakening once he realized who had fallen on top of him.

 

“G’morning, Master Ori.” The blonde shifted as he spoke, eyes half lidded and voice still rough with sleep. “If you were wanting a proper cuddle, all you had to do was say. I feel it’s only fair to warn you, though, that there’s a dark-haired demon hiding somewhere in this bed that tends to hog the coverlet.”

 

Said brunette chose that moment to fight his way free of the blankets and glared at his brother. “Lies and slander! Do you see what I have to put up with all the time, Ri-o? I don’t know why you insist on abandoning me with him so often!”

 

“Good morning to both of you,” Ori answered both with a soft laugh and wriggled around to find a more comfortable spot. There was quite a bit of shifting, some sullen muttering, and one hushed yelp - _he hadn’t meant to put his hand there_ \- but it wasn’t very long before the youngest Lorison found himself safely beneath the bedspread and sandwiched between two mischievous, if still groggy, Durinsons. It was a secret that Ori guarded closely, but Fili and Kili gave the best morning cuddles in all of Middle-Earth.

 

“And good morning to you, too.” Kili’s scowl melted into a smirk once Ori settled and he shifted even closer, twisting his legs between Ori’s and hiding his face in Ori’s shirt. “Oh yes, this is much better. Excellent idea, Ri-o.”

 

Fili took this as his cue to shift closer as well, sliding one arm beneath Ori’s head - _more solid now than it was last time, but_ _better than any pillow_ \- and tucking the other around Ori’s side so that he had his hand tangled in Kili’s wild hair.

 

Surrounded in warmth and comfort and darkness, Ori caught his eyes trying to slide closed without his permission. The last time he’d felt so peaceful and content was in Ered Luin,  - _the day was late and Miss Dis said that there would be cookies after supper, but not yet, and they were exhausted after having swam across the lake and back and they were under the old oak in a pile of tangled limbs_ \- almost ten years ago. It would be easy - _entirely too easy_ \- to give in and just drift back to sleep, but if they didn’t wake on their own, one of the company would come to do the job and they were bound to be rude about it.

 

“C’mon, lads,” he mumbled. “Gotta get up and moving.”

 

Fili groaned into the back of Ori’s head and Kili pulled away from Ori’s front long enough to offer a rude look before hiding his face again.

 

Ori huffed and shifted - _he was wrapped up too tightly to be the first one to break the cuddle_ \- before he gathered enough energy to try again.

 

“We’ve gotta get up or...” He struggled to think of something threatening enough drive the brothers from bed. “Or Dori will show Mister Bilbo pictures of all of us - the horrid ones, where we’re all younglings and starkers.”

 

The response Ori got was immediate, but rather than pulling away from him, the two brothers pressed even closer.

 

“Mum already showed Master Boggins those pictures.” Ori flinched and made an indignant sound, but the brothers only laughed. “She was trying to bribe him into sharing his scones recipe.”

 

“Oh.” Ori  contemplated this new information. “Did it work?”

 

Fili snorted into the back of his neck. “No.”

 

“Master Boggins guards that recipe closer than a dragon guards its hoard!” Kili’s laughter was muffled by Ori’s stomach and Ori found himself suddenly feeling much warmer.

 

“What if-” Ori scrambled to find another reason why they shouldn’t surrender to sleep. “But what about Mister Bofur? Last time I overslept, he poured a whole pitcher of ice water over me!” Ori frowned at the memory. Mister Bofur had soaked Ori, his pillow and the bed and, with the humidity the way it was, it had been ages before the bed quit feeling damp. “And the time before it was crushed ice!”

 

Fili flexed the arm that Ori’s head lay pillowed on and made an amused, humming sound in his throat.

 

Kili pulled back again, smiling. “Oh, he tried that method with us,” the brunette’s grin turned noticeably sharper. “Once.”

 

Ori laughed and rolled his eyes. Of course Mister Bofur would’ve tried pranking Fili and Kili during their time with him, but the Durinson Duo weren’t the sort to tolerate such abuse without retribution.

 

Ori hummed to himself. With his two best friends protecting him from a rude awakening, perhaps it would be safe to catch just a bit more sleep.

 

He had just begun to nod off – _his eyes couldn’t have been closed for more than a moment_ \- when a tapping at the door startled him awake. Ori blinked owlishly at the door. That was Mister Bofur’s rhythm. He moved to get up when it came a second time, but the brothers only pulled him closer.

 

The door opened without any further tapping, but what worried Ori more than Mister Bofur coming to wake them was the low growl that vibrated its way through Ori’s back. Was Fili making that noise? It had to be Fili - Fili was the only person plastered to his back, but the noise was so threatening, so lazily feral that Ori almost couldn’t believe it.

 

Kili pried his face free of Ori’s front yet again to accompany his brother’s growl with a poisonous glare, but the look was lost on Mister Bofur, as, once the door was opened just wide enough, the man slipped through, a hand clamped firmly over his eyes and a shit eating grin firmly in place.

 

“Mister Bofur?” Ori licked his lips and glanced at Kili, who looked about as confused as he did. “What are you doing?”

 

“Hm? Oh, well, I drew the short straw, so I’ve been sent to fetch ye. I tried t’ tell them that the lot of ye weren’t gonna be wantin’ t’ be disturbed any, but they weren’t hearin’ any of it.”

 

Ori blinked and frowned. “No, I mean, why do you have your hand over your eyes like that?”

 

Mister Bofur shuffled his feet and managed to shift just the slightest bit closer to the doorway. Neither the hand over his eyes nor the grin on his face wavered in the least. “Well, lad, I know the lot of ye are young men now, complete with the energy and needs that young people seem t’ come with, and ye certainly won’t find any judgment coming from me if the three of ye happen t’ turn t’ each other for those needs. Can’t say that it’s entirely unexpected, now, either, if I’m bein’ honest, and if ye’re wantin’ -”

 

“Mister Bofur!” Ori was only half aware that he had nearly shrieked. Kili snickered and Fili shook behind him - _how could he be laughing when Mister Bofur was assuming lewd things?_ \-  but all Ori could think of was ensuring that the older man did not finish that sentence. “Mister Bofur, we’re not doing anything more than cuddling! We are all more than decent.”

 

“Of course ye are, lad. Wasn’t trying t’ say anything about yer virtue, just don’t want to take any risks.” Ori made an indignant sound and Bofur’s grin widened. “Just thought ye should know that most everyone’s gotten up and that his royalness has decreed that since the lot of us did the messin’, the lot of us should do the cleanin’. Also, Dori’s lookin’ for ye, lad. I’ll try to keep him pointed away from this area, but I dunno how long that might be good for.”

 

Ori hid his face in Kili’s hair with a groan. Kili’s snickering was joined by his brother’s chuckles again and Ori didn’t bother looking up again until he heard the door click shut.

 

“Fuck,” Ori groaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

It was Kili’s turn to shake with mirth against him.

 

“Dori’ll be begging soap from Mister Bilbo if he catches you sullying your mouth like that.” Fili’s voice was a deep rumble against the back of his neck.

 

“I don’t care,” Ori sulked. “I’m not ready to leave the bed yet.”

 

Kili’s shaking increased and he began making an odd half-choking noise that meant he was seconds away from outright laughter. Ori scowled down at his friend’s hair and huffed, but that seemed to be what the brunette was waiting for and a wave of laughter burst out of him.

 

“Oh, of all the - sod off, why don’t you?” Kili’s laughter only increased as Ori muttered and cussed and tried to fight his way free of the two brothers, but Fili’s hold was unbreakable and Kili’s grip was rather strong for someone who was struggling to breathe past his laughter.

 

“I’ve not finished my cuddling, Master Lorison.” Ori could hear the laughter in Fili’s voice and thought that it was probably a good thing that his friends did have such a good hold on him because the moment he got an arm free he was going to wallop the both of them.

 

“But Dori is awake - and looking for me! If he catches us in here, like this, he’ll go on for ages.” Ori didn’t care if he was whining at this point. The chances were more than good that he’d be shoved into the same vehicle as his oldest brother and the only thing he hated more than driving all day with Dori, was driving all day with Dori in full blown lecture-mode.

 

“Ah, Dori’s not so bad.” Kili’s laughter had trickled down to giggles. “If you ever want to see a real master at work just let us know - we’ll rile Uncle up and you can watch while he gives us a proper dressing down.”

 

Ori stilled and took a moment to glare at the nest of brown hair that was still tucked under his chin before he forced himself to relax.

 

“I suppose you’re right,” he tried to keep his voice bland, but Kili stilled almost immediately and Fili was already tensing behind him. “Mister Bofur did say that all they were going to do was clean up Mister Bilbo’s home and I’m sure the lot of them can do that without us there to supervise.” He paused again and shifted, as if he were getting comfortable again. “I mean, the others do have a unique sense of humor, but it’s not like they’d ever drop one of Mister Bilbo’s things... not on purpose, anyway.”

 

The Durinson Duo was still for all of five seconds - _he counted_ \- before they simultaneously tried to spring away from Ori and out of the bed. Unfortunately for them, they seemed to have forgotten just how tightly they had curled themselves around the youngest Lorison. Ori would’ve been laughing much harder if Kili’s knee hadn’t almost bashed into his more sensitive parts, but he did end up chuckling when Fili managed to free himself from the tangle of limbs, only to fall off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Kili freed himself next, quick to follow his brother’s example, and both of them scrambled across the floor to the nearest dresser.

 

Ori pulled himself out from under the bedcovers and sat on the side of the bed, grinning, even if he was a bit confused. “Did you unpack your clothes last night? You remember that we’re heading out again this morning, don’t you?”

 

The brothers didn’t bother pausing in their haste to pull open drawers and assess the contents - _there was some sort of argument going on between them about the clothes, Fili was grumbling, but Kili wore a smug look when he said something about the old stuff being too small and Fili didn’t move to stop him_ \- and they spoke as they pulled on whatever clothing they deemed acceptable.

 

“This is our room.”

 

“It’s the same one that Master Boggins gave us last time we were here.”

 

“The books, the papers, our clothes - they’ve been straightened up, but they’re all still here.”

 

“And the ball bearings that Fili spilt all over the floor and we never got around to gathering up-” Kili cut off when Fili’s foot connected with his shin and for a moment Ori was concerned the spat would turn physical, but Kili seemed content to glare. “You shut it - it was your fault they ended up on the floor, so it may as well have been you who dropped them! Anyway, they’ve all been picked up and put in that jar on the dresser - even the ones that had rolled under the bed!”

 

The pair of them continued to point out little details of the room and how they had changed or stayed the same as they dressed. By the time they were suitable for decent folk, the sky had started to lighten at the horizon and Ori knew that dawn was fast approaching.

 

Kili had finished lacing up his boots before he turned back to Ori, a grin on his face and something soft - _vulnerable_ \- in his eyes. “This is our room, Ri-o. He kept everything the same, just for us - he said so last night. It’s _our room_.”

 

Ori blinked and looked around the room again. He’d had it easier than his friends had, not having to move as often and Dori nearly always being with him when he did go somewhere new, but still... to have a room that would be yours, no matter what - one that you could go away from and come back to years later to find it cared for but still as you left it. He shook his head and grinned at his friends.

 

“Wow.” He wasn’t always the best with words - _he spoke more often than Fili did, but never as much as Kili, and Dori still nagged him about expanding his vocabulary_ \- but, as always, Fili and Kili seemed to understand what he meant and they answered with two dazzling grins of their own.

 

They climbed to their feet and offered Ori a hand up. Ori accepted the help, suffered silently through them straightening out his clothes and his hair, and then herded them out to dining room, where it sounded like everyone else had gathered.

 

Dori shot an accusing look at Ori and Nori had a mischievous glint to his eyes, but neither had time to confront him before Mister Thorin started dividing up the necessary chores.

 

With thirteen pairs of hands to help, the task of cleaning up the house was a light one. It was Fili and Kili, though, who directed the bunch of them and Ori found himself biting his tongue several times to avoid laughing at how they fussed - _he almost lost it when the pair seemed genuinely distressed over some scratches left in hard wood floors of the dining room_ \- over just how each item should be attended to or put away. The rest of the company seemed to have no qualms about expressing their mirth, though, and Ori thought it fortunate that a good number of them were nursing hangovers or soft laughter and gentle teasing would be the least of Fili and Kili’s troubles.

 

The brothers managed – _in between their supervising of the company’s efforts_ \- to put together a rather simple meal of toast and jams and cereals for the company to break their fast with. They bore the teasing this garnered with as much grace as they ever did.

 

“Ah, ye’re turning into right clever housewives, the pair of ye are,” Mister Bofur’s eyes glittered with mirth and he gave a pointed glance to Ori, even as he kept his voice low. “Ye’ll both be makin’ some poor sod a lucky man before too much longer.”

 

Ori blinked, but even as he felt his face heating he saw Kili place another cup of coffee in front of the older man with a lascivious smile. “Do you really think so? I’ve been perfecting my seed-cake recipe, hoping to find some handsome, older man to take care of me, but I’ll have to admit that it pales next to Mister Boggins’ scones.”

 

“To be fair, though,” Fili stood at the sink, already seeing to the dishes the simple breakfast had produced. “All pastries pale in comparison to Master Bilbo’s scones. And you’d better be quick about finding yourself a husband, brother, or your good looks will fade and the Valar know that you haven’t enough wit to charm one into marriage.”

 

Kili gasped as if mortally offended. “You’re one to talk! A person would have to be blind to marry your ugly mug!” He turned to Ori, then, with pleading, playfully-desperate look on his face. “You don’t think my looks will fade, do you, Ri-o?”

 

Ori felt his mouth stretch into a grin, but nodded as he schooled his face into one of faux seriousness. “Your beauty is the sort that learned folk flock to record for ages to come.”

 

Kili managed to look delighted and smug as he turned back to his brother, but Fili shook his head, wearing a mock-sad look. “What Master Ori means to say, brother-dearest, is that your appearance is so freakish and bizarre, that scientists are desperate to record it so that whatever mutations you bare can be avoided in future generations.”

 

Kili let out an outraged squawk of a noise and shoved at his brother. This lead to a scuffle, of course, which threatened to turn into a full out brawl, but Dori had the good sense to clear his throat.

 

“Actually, what I believe my youngest brother was trying to tell you,” he paused and Ori was jealous yet again of Dori’s natural talent with dramatic pauses. “Is that the biscuits are burning.”

 

The whole room grew quiet and both Fili and Kili sent a confused look to Ori - _who couldn’t work out if they were asking for confirmation that the biscuits were burning or wondering if that was really what he’d really meant_ \- before scrambling over to the oven. They hissed and muttered to each other before they sighed and their sounds became more worried.

 

Finally, Kili called over Mister Bombur and they spoke quietly, Bombur’s soft amusement a pleasant counter to their anxiety. Finally, the three of them seemed satisfied and Bombur nodded one final time. Fili took up the same tea tray that he had made up last night and Kili had a plate of mostly unburnt biscuits and the pair of them spoke quietly to Mister Thorin, who also nodded, before they left the room. Fili lingered in the doorway that bridged the kitchen to the hallway and sent Ori a particular smile - _don’t worry, it said, we’ll be right back_ \- before he followed his brother out of sight.

 

Mister Thorin cleared his throat and the company quieted itself. “Everyone’s to go through their rucksacks. Make sure you have everything you need and that it’s packed securely. If you find that you’re missing something, let Balin know.” Mister Balin met Mister Thorin’s eyes and nodded. “This will be the last chance we have to get our hands on quality material in a respectable manner, so make sure you’re thorough. In one hour, he’ll take a list of what we need and head off to pick up what’s on it. Oin, Bifur, and Bombur - you’re with Balin today.” Each of the men named straightened and gave Mister Thorin a solemn nod. “Gloin, Nori, and Bofur - the three of you will be hauling the supplies. You’ll leave one hour after Balin’s group. Let’s keep the mischief to a minimum - at least until we’ve passed the district walls.” Nori raised an eyebrow and Mister Bofur just about pouted, but Mister Gloin gave a gruff nod. “Dori, Ori -” Ori straightened at the sound of his name. “You’ll be riding with Fili, Kili, and Baggins, leaving an hour after Gloin. Try to put him at ease, if you can - he looks nervous enough to jump at his own shadow right now.” Dori nodded and Ori echoed the movement. “Dwalin and I will be outriding. The helmet com’s are working, so don’t be afraid to patch through if you get a thought. We’re aiming to make it out of the district today, so there’s no reason to speed or otherwise draw attention to ourselves. We’ll meet up at the school.”

 

“The one in the glade?” Mister Gloin frowned. “That one’s naught but rubble, collapsed last spring.”

 

Mister Thorin shook his head. “No, the secondary school - the one that sits above the spring.”

 

There were murmurs among the company as memories were prodded and routes discussed. Ori was actually more than a little surprised to see Mister Dwalin cornering Dori, but he really shouldn’t have been. Just as Mister Dwalin shifted so that his bulky frame blocked Ori’s oldest brother from sight, Ori was yanked backward and nearly off his feet.

 

A calloused hand slid over his mouth and a strong arm pinned Ori’s arms to his sides as he was dragged back, quicker than he thought possible, to a room that the dawning sun had yet to find. His captor released him and half shoved him at a well-padded couch. The same couch that his “assailant” flung himself onto a moment later.

 

“You’re dead, brat. Dead men don’t smile.” Nori’s voice was deadly serious and his face was a blank mask, but there was laughter at the corners of his eyes that he couldn’t hide from his younger brother. “You let your guard down.” The comment was accompanied by a vicious pinch to Ori’s side. “What did I tell you about that?”

 

Ori yelped with the pinch but didn’t bother pretending to be repentant. “I did let my guard down, but so did all the others. This is Mister Baggins’ house, we’re safe here.” He rubbed at his side and pulled up his shirt to check for damage. There was going to be a horrible welt there by the end of the day.

 

“There’s no such thing as safe.” Ori watched as his older brother spoke, wondering how he managed to look as if he’d had all his bones pulled from him at once and whether or not he was comfortable in the position he was in. “Not here, not in Erebor, not in the center of the earth. No place is safe enough to let your guard down completely.”

 

Ori shifted into a more comfortable position and nodded. “I suppose this means the others are dead, too.” Nori gave him a solemn nod. “Even Mister Baggins?”

 

“Especially Mister Baggins. He died first.”

 

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Nori raised an eyebrow at him. “I was looking forward to having more of those scones of his.” Nori huffed in that silent way that only he ever used for laughing. “Still, I suppose we should tell the others that they’re all dead. They were still talking and moving about when you killed me. It’s rather disconcerting if you think about it too long.”

 

Nori graced him with another nod. “Very.” He paused. “Dori’s still pestering you about expanding your vocabulary, isn’t he?”

 

Ori groaned and flung his arms over his head in a rare show of frustration. “Yes! He’s getting smarter about it, too.”

 

Nori tilted his head to one side. Ori wasn’t sure if his brother knew it, but he loved how Nori always treated him like an equal. He didn’t trying prodding or bullying Ori into learning or practicing anything new - _save for the self-dense and survival skills_ \- and he was only ever as talkative as Ori wanted to be at that moment. It was something he treasured about his time with his “disreputable” brother.

 

“I don’t know if he figured out I was cramming last minute or not, but now when he tests me he slips some of the old words in, too.” Nori hummed in sympathy. If anyone in the world knew about Dori’s anal retentive nature more than Ori did, it would be Nori. “I don’t suppose you could kill Dori again, could you?”

 

Nori tilted his head to the other side and seemed to consider the idea for a few minutes before he nodded. “I suppose it could be arranged.” He paused. “What do I get out of it?”

 

“Well, as I’m already dead, I could promise not to haunt you.” Ori was rewarded with another huffing laugh and knew that his face would ache later if he kept grinning this hard. “Or... or I could get you premium access to Military Men of Middle Earth for free.”

 

The choked coughing that erupted from the middle Lorison was well worth the second pinch Ori received and it was several minutes before he was able to stop laughing long enough to catch his breath again.

 

“Brat.”

 

Ori burst into another fit of giggles. He gave his brother a sidelong look as they faded and grabbed a pillow for protection. “Of course, I could just save myself the trouble and ask Mister Dwalin to pose for some photos. I’m sure he’d be happy to once I tell him it’s you the pictures are for.”

 

Sure enough, Nori tackled his younger brother and tickled him mercilessly. The pillow didn’t even provide half the protection Ori had hoped it would and he was, as always, no match for his older brother’s nimble hands.

 

“Mercy! Me - mercy!” Ori called out, trying to keep his voice low enough to avoid bringing the whole company barging in. “Please - I’m sorry.”

 

“Damn straight, you’re sorry.” Nori snorted. “And you’ll be apologetic, too, by the time I’ve finished with you.”

 

“Please,” Ori tried again. “I’m s-sorry! I - I apol - apologize! I’ll never - I’ll never mention it again! I s - swear!”

 

Nori finally ceased his torture and gave Ori a narrow look. “Give me one good reason why I should stop.”

 

Ori managed to get his gasping under control long enough to offer his most charming smile. “Because you lust after scantily clad military men and I really can get you premium access to the web site?” Nori made to lunge at him again and Ori all but yelped. “And because I’m your favorite younger brother!!!”

 

Nori paused. “You’re my only younger brother.”

 

Ori grinned up at him. “Which means I’m all the more precious.”

 

Nori snorted but let him back up with only a smack to the shoulder. “You’ve spent too much time with the Durinson brats.”

 

“Nah,” Ori huffed as he sorted himself out on the couch again. “It’s been four years they spent at DELMA and I only just got to see them again last night!”

 

Nori resumed his previous position of bonelessness, but kept a sharp eye on his younger brother. “And this morning.” Ori smiled, unrepentant. There was no point in denying it. “There something you want to tell me about that?”

 

Ori blinked and shook his head. “No,” he hesitated and then scowled. “Except that Mister Bofur was being a perverted old sod!”

 

Nori raised an eyebrow and wore an almost-smile at the corners of his mouth. “Is that so?”

 

“Yes!” Ori huffed and glared at the door that hid them from the rest of the company. “I snuck over to Fili and Kili’s room for a few minutes to talk to them and we were having a bit of a cuddle, when Mister Bofur came in with his hands up over his eyes talking about how he wanted to make sure he didn’t see anything.”

 

The huffing laugh made a return. “I see what you mean. Three young men, secretly sharing the same bed in the wee hours of the morning. I can’t see anything lewd about that scenario.”

 

Ori felt his face heat up. “Well, when you put it that way...” He shifted and sent a sullen look Nori’s way. “But it’s Fili and Kili - they’re different! It’s not like that with them. We’ve always been close.”

 

“So you have, brat. So you have.” Nori nodded again, but this time Ori didn’t understand the look in his brother’s eyes. “I’ll have a talk with Bofur about letting up on the teasing, too.”

 

Ori broke into another smile. “Really? Thanks! He’s got a wicked sense of humor, but sometimes it takes weird twists.”

 

The almost smile was back, but Nori nodded again. “Aye, that it does.”

 

There was a rapid tapping at the door - _Kili’s pattern_ \- before the door opened a crack. “The headmaster's on the warpath.” The door closed again, just as quickly.

 

It was Nori’s turn to give Ori an incredulous look.

 

Ori shrugged. “Their humor takes weird twists, too.”

 

Nori nodded and pulled himself to his feet in a move reminiscent of a puppet being pulled upright by its strings. Ori watched the movement in awe but kept enough of a presence of mind to accept the hand to help him up when it was offered.

 

Ori straightened out his hair and his clothes yet again - _Nori was about the only person that didn’t fuss and try to do that for him_ \- and made for the door, when a touch at his shoulder made him pause.

 

Nori’s eyes were hard now - he was upset about something. “About Baggins...”

 

Ori didn’t bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I told you last night - Kili’s bashing was an accident. Just like Mister Dwalin’s attack on Mister Baggins.” Nori didn’t look reassured - _he was always looking for the next attack, then next enemy_ \- so Ori surprised him with a hug. “He’s harmless, I promise.”

 

Nori sighed and held him tight. “I don’t care. You tell me the moment he so much as looks at you wrong, understand?”

 

Ori nodded, but didn’t break the embrace right away. As rare as it was for him to see his second brother while growing up, hugs from him were even more rare and he treasured each one he got. Nori didn’t seem to mind too much.

 

They broke apart after bit and managed to slip back to the rest of the group mostly unnoticed. Those of the company who were closer to Dori noticed first, of course. Mister Bifur snorted when their paths crossed and Mister Oin shook his head at the youngest Lorison from across the room, but Mister Balin gave him an indulgent smile, so he didn’t feel too bad about having snuck off.

 

It didn’t take Ori long before he spotted where his friends had gotten to. They were in the sitting room - _the informal one_ \- hovering around Mister Baggins. Mister Greyhame was with them, of course, and the brothers seemed to be discussing something with the old man.

 

“It’s just that we know the company better,” Kili wore a sharp smile as he spoke and Ori wondered whether his friend had learned that from Nori or if it was all his own. Fili stood at his brother’s side, hands clasped behind his back - _and Mister Baggins didn’t know the lads half as well as he thought he did if he didn’t realize the threat they meant to Mister Greyhame in that gesture_ \- and eyes flickering around the room while Kili spoke. “No offence, of course. We understand that you’re a rather important man and you’ve probably been speaking with Uncle and the others since they were old enough to form words, but however long you’ve been at it, we still know them better.”

 

Fili’s eyes moved to Mister Greyhame as Kili finished speaking - _Kili’s eyes had never left the older man_ \- and their gazes glinted with a possessive light that Ori was more than familiar with.

 

Ori sighed to himself. He was going to have to talk to them about sharing, again.

 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you do know them better, boys.” The Durinson duo hated being called boys, but Mister Greyhame must have known that if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. “It’s just that I’ve known Bilbo for quite some time now and I thought he might indulge an old man for just a few minutes more before he sets out on his adventure.”

 

Kili’s tone was strained when he replied - _his words were nothing but polite, though_ \- but the exact nature of his reply was lost because it took everything Ori had not to screech as an unexpected hand appeared at his shoulder.

 

Mister Baggins had the grace to look apologetic, even if he did look amused as well. “Sorry about that, but, knowing this lot, they’ll be at each other’s throats for a while longer before they realize anything’s amiss. Would you mind making introductions for me before the first lot takes off?”

 

Ori blinked. “I, uh...” He glanced over at his friends and Mister Greyhame again. They hadn’t even seemed to even notice that Mister Baggins was gone yet. Ori felt the sudden tension in his shoulders ease up and he smiled. “I’d be happy to, Mister Baggins.”

 

Mister Baggins offered a beaming smile. “Please, call me Bilbo - it sounds like the trip will be arduous enough without having to stand on propriety as well.”

 

Ori swallowed and nodded. That sounded a bit forward, but if that’s what Mister Bilbo wanted. “Right then,” he nodded again and looked at the two entrances before inclining his head toward the more formal sitting room. “They’ll be closer to the door by this time, I think.”

 

Mister Bilbo nodded and followed as Ori led the way to the other room. Balin and Oin were engaged in conversation and Bombur was frowning at his vidcom, so Ori stopped next to the least intimidating of the four.

 

“Mister Bilbo?” He didn’t pause long enough to let the older man protest his title. Dori had raised him to respect his elders and it just wasn’t proper to call the man by his first name like they were equals. “This is Corporal Bifur Kotherson. If there’s something electronic, the Corporal can hack it, recode it, and get it working in our favor.”

 

Mister Bifur pulled his gaze from the map that hung above the fireplace and locked eyes with Ori before he nodded to Mister Bilbo.

 

Mister Bilbo smiled and offered his hand. “I’m sure you’ve already been told my name, but Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

 

Mister Bifur shook Mister Bilbo’s hand and nodded again, but still didn’t say anything. Mister Bilbo’s smile flickered.

 

“The Corporal doesn’t speak much, not anymore.” Ori glanced at the older man briefly – _unsure_ – but was met with an encouraging smile and a nod of his own. “He’s got an old injury,” Mister Bifur motioned to the scars that started at the front, left corner of his forehead and traveled into his hairline. “Sometimes it makes his words tangle up, so he tries to keep his speaking to a minimum. We, the company, I mean, use military hand signs to communicate when we need to be quiet and the Corporal tends uses them because it’s easier.”

 

Mister Bilbo nodded, but a soft touch at his shoulder brought Ori’s attention back to what the older man was signing. _Day? Night?_

 

Ori huffed, but couldn’t hide his smile. “They’re off in the other room, arguing with Mister Greyhame about who should get the honors of introducing our host to everyone.”

 

Mister Bifur’s gaze cut to Mister Bilbo and he gave a big grin. _Interference needed? Ten minutes before deploying._

 

Ori shook his head. “I think they have all the interference they need in each other. Thank you, though.” He clasped the other man’s forearm and thumped his forehead on Mister Bifur’s shoulder. “Travel safe and stay well!”

 

Mister Bifur gripped Ori’s arm tight and ruffled his hair. He answered with an affirmative grunt and turned his attention back to the map.

 

Ori cast a side-long glance at Mister Bilbo as they stepped away, but Mister Bilbo looked lost in thought. “Is everything okay, sir?”

 

Mister Bilbo blinked. “Hmm? Oh yes, quite.”

 

Ori nodded - _though he didn’t believe the man_ \- and led him to where Mister Bombur sat.

 

“This is Mister Bombur Kafurson,” the man in question looked up from his portable vid-com long enough to offer a bit of a smile and then returned to his work. “He’s the Corporal’s cousin and a professor at District Ered Luin’s top university.”

 

Mister Bilbo didn’t seem bothered by how distracted Mister Bomber was at all. “Oh? What’s his subject?”

 

“Cultural studies,” Ori beamed. It had been nice to have a friendly face nearby while he attended to his studies. Not that Dori wasn’t a vid-call away, but he’d had a bit of an anxious time when the reality of physically being so far from his brother had kicked in. “He’s the one that’s able to get us the proper documentation for whatever district we’re traveling through. You should keep a lookout for when he and Mister Gloin get together, though. They share a fondness for things that explode.”

 

Mister Bilbo mirrored Ori’s mischievous smile. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

 

Mister Bombur sighed and his eyebrows knit together. Ori found himself frowning before he realized it.

 

“Is everything okay with Miss Halla and the little ones?”

Mister Bombur blinked as if just realizing that Ori and Mister Bilbo were there. “What? Oh yes, yes, they’re fine - no, I’m just tryin’ t’ put together a set of idents for Mister Baggins, here, and the records that the local bureaucrats use are a bit, uh... a bit...”

 

“Unnecessarily complicated?” Mister Bilbo definitely seemed amused now.

 

Bombur smiled. “Aye, that’s it.” Whatever work he was trying to accomplish, he found a pausing point and tucked his vid-com away. “I’ll tell ye, though, I’d hate t’ be a producer of any sort of birth-control in this district. The size of the families bein’ what they are, I don’t imagine they see any sort of business.”

 

Mister Bilbo laughed, pulling Misters Oin and Balin from their own conversations. “I suppose so.”

 

Ori motioned the other two older men over with a few hand signs and smiled at Mister Bilbo again. “This is Sergeant Oin Groinson, he’s our combat medic. Make sure to talk at him on his left side, though, he has trouble with his hearing on the right.”

 

Mister Bilbo blinked but nodded, offering his hand to Mister Oin. “Oh?”

 

Mister Oin took the Shireling’s hand and gave it two or three strong pumps. “An accident from when I was a younger man. Gloin’s always had a fondness fer explosions an’ I wasn’t always clever enough t’ keep m’ distance from ‘em.” His answer was gruff, and his eyes moved over Mister Bilbo as he spoke. “D’ ye have any health conditions or allergies I should know about? There’s not a lot we can do t’ accommodate ill health on the road, but there’s not much I haven’t seen, either.”

 

Mister Bilbo wore a wry smile as he shook his head. “Aside from a severe allergy to any sort of vigorous physical activity, I’m afraid I’m as fit as possible.”

 

Mister Oin laughed and released Mister Bilbo’s hand to smack his shoulder. “That’s what I like t’ hear, an’ don’t worry yerself over that allergy – I’ve shots that can help with that.”

 

Misters Bilbo, Balin, and Bombur laughed.

 

“And this is Colonel Balin Fundinson, our military strategist.” Ori introduced the last of the men to Mister Bilbo with a smile.

 

“We met last night, but it’s a pleasure t’ make your acquaintance formally.” Mister Balin smiled.

 

Mister Bilbo shook Mister Balin’s hand and they were talking about a chess set - _the one in the study he’d been in with Nori earlier, it had looked to be made of wood and stone_ \- when Ori remembered something that made him frown.

 

“Excuse me, Colonel?” The two men paused and Mister Balin nodded. “I thought Dori said you’d retired from your military career?”

 

Mister Balin smiled warmly - _never one to get aggravated by a question_ \- and shook his head. “I was, lad, but when Thorin told m’ what he was up t’ an’ asked me t’ come along... well, I thought I probably ought make an exception for m’ king.”

 

Ori startled, he hadn’t thought of it like that. “Oh - I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

 

Mister Balin was chuckled - _Mister Bilbo’s eyes were warm but he didn’t laugh out loud_ \- and pat him on the shoulder. “No ‘arm, lad, no ‘arm. I think it’s time for us t’ be on our way, though.”

 

“Oh, yes, of course.” Ori nodded and hoped he wasn’t overly flushed. If the Durinson brothers caught him looking like this they’d harass him for hours, no matter the cause.

 

He and Mister Bilbo saw the lot of them to the front door - _Ori got a gruff hug that he was sure he was too old for, but he wasn’t about to tell Mister Bifur that_ \- and bid their farewells, shutting the door only after they had turned the corner and were out of sight.

 

Mister Bilbo had an odd look on his face and he seemed to be studying Ori rather more closely than the younger man was entirely comfortable with.

 

“Is something wrong, Mister Bilbo?”

 

Mister Bilbo blinked again and a sheepish smile crossed his face. “Ah, I was staring again, wasn’t I? I’m sorry for that.” He paused and glanced back to the more formal sitting room - _where voices were still raised in argument_ \- before his eyes met Ori’s again. “I was just thinking that you’re all rather close. You call yourselves a company, but really, it’s more like one large family.”

 

Ori grinned and nodded. “That’s right. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. We’re not always all together in one place like this, but we try to keep in touch and we look out for each other as best as we can.”

 

Mister Bilbo nodded. “The stories the boys told said as much. I’m not sure why I’m surprised to see that it’s as they said.”

 

Ori shook his head and tried not to roll his eyes. “Because they’re Fili and Kili and everyone loves them.” He tried not to smile overly much as he said this, but wasn’t sure how well he was doing when he saw Mister Bilbo give a small smile of his own.

 

“True enough. Where’s our next lot, then?”

 

Ori bowed his head and reviewed what he knew of the layout of Mister Bilbo’s home - _he’d have to apologize for that later, a bit of an invasion of privacy to be honest, Dori would kill him if he ever found out_ \- and realized he could think of two or three places.

 

“Uh, let’s try the kitchens first?”

 

Mister Bilbo nodded and the two of them took the hallway around to the kitchen this time. Ori tried not to be so obvious about peeking into the different rooms - _now that there was enough ambient light to see what their purpose might be_ \- but Mister Bilbo only seemed amused and didn’t make any comment on it.

 

Ori peaked around the door frame that led to the kitchen and was relieved to find the exact group of miscreants - _one word of many that Dori like to attribute to these particular members of the company_ \- he had been searching for. Turning back to Mister Bilbo, Ori held a finger up to his lips and then motioned for the man to come closer. The man moved without a sound - _another thing the lads had gone on about him doing_ \- and peaked around the corner with him. In the room, Mister Dwalin sat on the floor against cabinets on one side of the room while Mister Gloin sat with his back against the stove opposite him and between the two stood Nori and Mister Bofur, juggling what looked to be jam jars full of various liquids between each other.

 

Mister Dwalin, as he watched the standing pair, pulled another jar from a small, wooden box that Ori hadn’t seen before. He glanced down at the lid of the jar long enough to call out a series of letters and numbers in a low, almost-whisper before his eyes returned to the spectacle before him.

 

Mister Gloin, who had been looking through a stack of papers and seemed to be dividing them into three new piles, paused in his work and frowned. “Nitro. Diluted solution.” His voice was just as soft as Mister Dwalin’s had been. “Pretty sure, anyway.”

 

Mister Bofur chuckled and Nori huffed out a laugh, but neither spoke or paused in what they were doing.

 

Mister Dwalin muttered - _grinning_ \- some unkind things about Mister Gloin’s memory and ancestry and, with a gruff “Incoming”, tossed the jar to Nori, who caught it with as much grace as Dori made tea and soon it was arcing back and forth through the air along with the other jars. Gloin glanced up again, but didn’t say anything.

 

At first Ori thought Mister Dwalin was just caught up in the hypnotic catch-and-toss that Mister Bofur and Nori were engaged in, but, after a few moments, he realized that Mister Dwalin’s eyes hadn’t left his brother. Mister Bofur seemed to have noticed this, too.

 

“Oi! Don’t go distractin’ m’ dancing partner, Fundinson. You keep staring holes int’ him like that an’ he might lose some of that famous concentration of his an’ then not one of us will have a problem in the world.”

 

Mister Bofur’s tone was an odd mix of sharp and playful, but if Nori noticed either Mister Dwalin’s staring or Mister Bofur’s tone, he didn’t react.

 

“Nah,” Mister Dwalin’s grin turned into a leer, but his eyes didn’t sway from Nori’s form. “Nori’s better than tha’. Steadiest ‘ands in Middle-Earth, this one. Nori’s hands ‘re so steady, ’m willing t’ bet th’ only way we’ll ‘ave ‘im flinchin’ ‘s if we...” And then he suggested something rather more graphic than Ori was prepared to hear, especially in reference to his brother.

 

Ori heard a small, strangled noise, but didn’t realize, until four sets of eyes turned in his direction, that he’d been the one to make it. The four sets of eyes widened and then four sets of hands struggled to pluck a half-dozen or so jars from the air. The whole production, as comical as it looked, was over in a matter of seconds and Mister Bofur and Mister Gloin burst into soft laughter even as Nori focused very intently on returning the jars to the small box Mister Dwalin had been plucking them from. Mister Dwalin was grinning as well, and when he spoke low enough for only the other three to hear, Mister’s Bofur and Gloin nearly choked on their laughter while Nori sent one of his most deadly glares back at Mister Dwalin. Mister Dwalin wasn’t feeling overly threatened, if his grin was anything to go by.

 

Mister Bilbo cleared his throat and Ori startled - _he’d forgotten that the man was still there_ \- before it registered what Mister Bilbo was saying. “What was in those jars?”

 

The four men exchanged a look and some well hidden hand signs - _Mister Dwalin’s eyes had gone hard and Nori’s smile showed too many teeth to be pleasant_ \- before Mister Bofur grinned up at him. Before Mister Bofur had a chance to speak, though, Mister Bilbo spoke again.

 

“Tell me it wasn’t nitroglycerin.”

 

Of the four of them, Mister Gloin was the easiest to get a read off of and when his eyes widened, Ori felt his stomach drop.

 

“ _Please_ tell me that you _were not_ juggling glass jars of nitroglycerin in my kitchen.”

 

The four men shared another look - _and it didn’t make Ori feel any better to note how much it resembled the look Fili and Kili so often shared_ \- before Mister Bofur answered with a laugh.

 

“Alright, then. We _were not_ jugglin’ glass jars of nitroglycerine in your kitchen.”

 

The room was very quiet for a handful of moments, but as soon as Mister Bilbo opened his mouth to speak again, Nori started humming that song he’d sung the night before. Bofur was quick to pick up the tune, and Dwalin and Gloin weren’t far behind him. Mister Bilbo shut his mouth again and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Ori didn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that Mister Bilbo didn’t like the song - _it had only been a bit of teasing_ \- but he knew that his brother - _and Mister Dwalin, too_ \- was only humming it to vex their host. He’d known his brother to be cold to strangers before, but never to someone who was helping them.

 

“Uh, well, that one there is Corporal Gloin Groinson, he’s in charge of artillery and ammunition and such. He’s our medic’s brother. Just next to him is Corporal Bofur Kafurson, our combat engineer. He’s Mister Bombur’s brother.” He shifted and glanced briefly at Mister Baggins - _still standing stiffly_ \- before he looked at the last two men. “You’ve already m- met Sergeant Dwalin Fundinson, he’s special forces and, uh, the Colonel’s brother. And then Corporal Nori Lorison - he used to be in strategic intelligence, but he’s retired now.”

 

The humming had come to almost the end of the song before it cut off abruptly and Nori, sharp smile in place, spoke. “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates.”

 

Ori looked up at the ceiling and tried not to fidget. “He’s my brother.”

 

The silence dragged on for a moment or two - _Ori spent it looking at anything but the other people in the room_ \- until there was a soft sigh from Mister Bilbo and Ori heard him continue down the hall. The man wasn’t even a dozen paces away when the snickering started.

 

Ori gave his brother a pained look - _Nori answered with an unrepentant grin_ \- before he moved to catch up with his host.

 

“I’m sorry about that - they really are nice folk. Mister Gloin has a son, Gimli, who just turned 15. He’s good in a fight, but rather hot tempered. Mister Bofur is the friendliest person in the whole company - even more than Fili and Kili are - it’s just that his sense of humor is a little off sometimes.” He hesitated. “Mister Dwalin and Nori... they’re just a little rough around the edges. They -”

 

“They care about you and the boys very much.” Mister Bilbo interrupted with a smile. “Don’t they?”

 

Ori grinned, relieved. “They do. They’re good men - every one of them - it’s just that some of them know how to be civilized and some of them have a bit of trouble with that part.”

 

“Ah, we’re discussing Nori and the rest of the scoundrels, then?”

 

Ahead of them stood Dori, leaning against a door frame and holding a book.

 

“They were being friendly with Mister Bilbo,” Ori nodded. “Except minus the friendly part.”

 

Mister Bilbo chuckled and took Dori’s hand when it was offered.

 

“Dori Lorison, District Erebor relations consultant.” Mister Bilbo blinked and Dori chuckled. “We’ve worked hard since the fall to rebuild something resembling a proper government. It’s rather more military in nature than it was before, but we’re working with what we have and it’s done wonders for our coordination and organization. Those districts that do acknowledge us as the proper face of District Erebor - well, Thorin needs someone to interact with those folk. That’s what I’m here for.”

 

“Ah, okay then,” Mister Bilbo nodded. “Sorry – talk science of any sort with me and I’m happy to chat away. Politics and bureaucracy, though, I have a bit more trouble following.”

 

Dori smiled and waved his hand. “We each have our roles to play.”

 

Mister Bilbo nodded again before looking back to Ori. “And what of you, Ori? What’s your role?”

 

Ori shrugged and tried not to fidget. “I’m one of our techies. I can do some repairs and I’m a fair hand at getting into places I shouldn’t be, but mostly I know how to be digitally social.”

 

Mister Bilbo shook his head and glanced at Dori - _who rolled his eyes_ \- before turning back to Ori. “I’m sorry, digitally social? I hadn’t heard of that before.”

 

Ori tried not to look as sheepish as he felt. “That’s because Fili and Kili came up with it. I know where to go and who to talk to in the digital realm to get useful information. It’s more risky than other methods in some ways, but faster and safer in others.”

 

Mister Bilbo smiled. “Amazing.” He looked from Ori to Dori and back. “Now, you two don’t have military rank, though.”

 

Dori shook his head in agreement. “Correct. Neither of us, nor Bombur, are a part of Erebor’s military forces. Bombur’s a professor at District Ered Luin’s Royal University and I stay busy trying to help Thorin keep interdistrict affairs in order.” Dori turned his gaze on his youngest brother and smiled. “This one, though, has just graduated from DELRU, with honors, with a degree in history.”

 

Mister Bilbo offered a low whistle of appreciation. “DELRU has a challenging program - difficult to get into, if I remember correctly, never mind completing with honors! Well done!” Ori flushed and ducked his head, but he caught the warm smile that Mister Bilbo sent his way. “What about Thorin and his nephews? You said only the two of you and Bombur don’t hold any military rank, so what do the boys and their uncle do, then?”

 

“Well, the lads have spent the last four years training at the District Ered Luin Military Academy. They’re privates, now, within District Erebor’s ranks, but between their penchant for trouble and all the time they’ve spent floating among certain members of the company, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were designated as their own two-man terrorist group.”

 

“Oi! Complements will only get you so far, Master Dori!”

 

“Ah, speak the devils’ names and they shall appear.”

 

Kili and Fili approached - _Fili’s solemn expression suggested a scolding, but Kili’s smirk said that it hadn’t been serious_ \- followed by Mister Thorin. Fili walked with his head held high and his shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back in respectful imitation of his uncle. Kili mirrored his brother but, as always, managed to turn the same actions into a playful mockery, instead. Mister Thorin’s face was carefully blank - _his politicking face_ \- but the lines at the corners of his eyes suggested that he found his youngest nephews antics more amusing than he wanted to let on.

 

“So which is it, Master Dori? Are we devils or terrorists?” Kili grinned and rocked up on the balls of his feet before settling back down. “Don’t you believe a word he’s told you about us, Master Boggins, Master Dori here has a severe allergy to anything resembling fun. It’s absolutely tragic.” He nodded gravely to Mister Bilbo and Ori was only able to meet Fili’s eyes for a moment before he had to look away or risk laughing aloud.

 

“I’m willing to believe that you’re both at once, the pair of you,” Mister Bilbo looked to be fighting a smile himself. “And I’m sure that some of my neighbors might say the same. Did you know that Lobelia’s yard has only just now made a full recovery from your Dwalin’s driving mishap?”

 

The brothers exchanged a look - _cruel and mischievous with the barest hint of anger_ \- before they responded. And although it was normally Kili’s grin – _too much like Nori’s, too full of teeth_ \- that the others usually found worrying, it was Fili’s bland smile that unnerved Ori now.

 

“Is that so?”

 

And that Kili didn’t say more was another warning sign, but when Ori caught the answering look in Mister Bilbo’s eyes - _only visible for half a moment before it was hidden away again_ \- he thought the whole company might be in a bit of trouble. Ori decided that moment that he needed to negotiate a free pass - _from the Durinson Duo as well as Mister Bilbo_ \- in case any pranking wars broke out.

 

“Is this the same Lobelia that called the law on you for taking your rest on the side of the road?” Mister Thorin’s voice held an edge of amusement.

 

“It is.” Fili nodded, as stoic as his uncle ever was despite the smile.

 

Mister Thorin shared a look with Dori - _the one reserved for mischief that should not have been done, but that had been more than deserved_ \- before turning to Mister Bilbo. “It seems I owe you my gratitude, then.”

 

Mister Bilbo held up a hand and shook his head. “It was no trouble. They’re good boys - better than they’d have you believe, I think. And Lobelia is a prejudiced cunt.” Ori startled and Dori choked on his breath. “It was almost as much of a delight to embarrass her in front of the watch as it was getting to know these two.”

 

Ori gaped at his host - _Fili was repressing a proper grin, but Kili was trying to hide his laughter in a coughing fit_ \- but Mister Thorin only blinked. “She sounds rather like the old man I encountered on my way here. He was rather displeased with my presence, even though I kept the full width of the street between us.”

 

Mister Bilbo frowned. “Do you recall where you were?”

 

 “Bywater Path and Frogmorton Way.”

 

Mister Bilbo’s frown changed to a grimace, and then a rueful smile. “Hugo Bracegirdle - a cousin of Lobelia’s, I believe.”

 

Mister Thorin raised a single eyebrow. “A lovely family, I’m sure.” His gaze flitted from his nephews to Ori, and then to Dori. “All packed?”

 

Ori nodded, as did Fili and Kili, but it was Dori who spoke. “The lads are, as am I. We were just discussing the members of the company and what function each of us fills.”

 

Mister Thorin hummed, looking back at Mister Bilbo again. “You’ve been briefed on everyone, then?”

 

“All but you.”

 

Mister Thorin gave the local a considering look before he held out his hand. “Staff Sergeant Thorin Durinson, District Erebor’s Special Forces, Oscar Sierra One.”

 

“Bilbo Baggins, power and energy engineering.” Mister Bilbo shook the offered hand after a moment’s pause.

 

Silence stretched on for a moment or two before a throat was cleared.

 

“Have you finished making your acquaintances, then?”

 

Ori startled – _along with everyone else_ \- and all eyes shot to Mister Greyhame, who stood in the hallway as if he’d been there for quite some time. Mister Bilbo scowled at the man.

 

“Have you finished your bickering with the younglings?”

 

“Oi!” Kili was quick to speak up. “We’re all adults here, even by District Shire’s archaic standards.”

 

Ori shot Fili a confused look, who responded by hand sign. _Man at twenty._ Ori blinked and made an annoyed sound. Fili smirked and nodded.

 

“Never you mind,” Mister Bilbo waved Kili’s protest off absently. He wore a smirk now, but his eyes were hard. “This one was old when dirt was young. We’re all younglings in his eyes.”

 

“Ah, I suppose that’s why we bicker so often, then, my dear?” Mister Greyhame looked to be annoyed, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

Mister Bilbo gave an indignant sniff. “Either that or the senility’s kicked in.”

 

Ori chanced a look at his oldest brother - _he’d stopped coughing, that was a good sign_ \- who was looking rather pale.

 

“Mister Bilbo?” The man hummed at him in response. “Do you think that Dori and I might borrow your tea set once more before we leave?” He glanced at his watch. “We still have more than an hour left before it’s our turn to move out and it’s hard to have a proper cup when you’re traveling.”

 

Mister Bilbo turned to him, looked him over, then looked to Dori and then to Fili and Kili. The brothers had quieted now, though they still seemed entertained. Mister Bilbo nodded. “Certainly.” He turned back to Mister Thorin and tilted his head to one side. “I’m afraid I haven’t finished packing just yet.”

 

Mister Thorin gave a curt nod and Mister Bilbo answered with a nod of his own, but before he had even taken his first step, Kili had moved to his side, vocal about ensuring that he was properly packed.

 

Ori shot another look to Fili, who still stood at Mister Thorin’s side. Aside from last night, when Mister Bilbo’s safety had been uncertain, Fili and Kili were rarely apart from each other voluntarily. Fili smiled and shook his head while his hands moved. _Debriefing with leader. Civilian needs guidance. All Clear._

 

Ori nodded and relaxed.

 

“Well, then,” Dori muttered. “About that tea.”

  
Ori watched his older brother move back toward the kitchen, then turned to see one friend step into a room with the king while the other drifted away with the man who was going to make returning home possible. He couldn’t help the flare of concern he felt for Mister Bilbo, but it didn’t last long. Even if their newest member wasn’t very road-savvy, Echo One Thr... Four - _there were fourteen of them now, after all_ \- always did look after its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters, but Real Life can get the better of any of us. (There might've been an issue with the writer's lack of self-discipline, but this was in no way a reflection of the author-wrangler's performance)
> 
> To any who are curious, the auction was a bust and no one bid on any on any of the writers. Still - it was a fun experiment and I don't think we'd be opposed to trying again.


	9. Sub Rosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowledge is power, true, but not all knowledge can be shared - not even with those you love most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is I Followed Fires by Matthew And The Atlas. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.

The journey to District Shire had taken nearly the whole day. Dori had traveled with his youngest brother, Ori, before and while there was occasional tension between the two of them during longer trips, there wasn’t any noticeable this time. That may have been due to the fact that Dori had been caught up in his thoughts for a good portion of the time, but Ori had always been more than sufficient at keeping himself entertained and the eldest Lorison was grateful for that.

 

Mister Bilbo Baggins, citizen of District Shire, had been the source of a persistent, if mild, headache for Dori Lorison since the man was first brought to his attention. He was quiet and respectable, if vocal about his opinions. His parents were both dead at least twenty years now, he had no siblings or current lovers, and he had only a handful of cousins he was particularly close with. Most of the locals who’d been interviewed had a positive view of the man, with the largest discrepancy being a Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, distantly related by marriage. Baggins had done well in his chosen field of study, high marks and honors, both, and had settled almost seamlessly into a career as a consultant for concerns related to energy and power engineering. He was between consultations at the moment, fortunately for the company. There were no scandals to be unearthed, no enemies to be wary of - _Mrs. Sackville-Baggins and Smaug Urulóki, aside_ \- and no loose ends in need of tying. Mister Bilbo Baggins was almost unnervingly clean.

 

With what little information he had on Baggins, anticipating how he might react to the various members of the company had been a painful exercise at best. He was beyond grateful for the insight that Fili and Kili had been able to provide, but he needed more data. Baggins responded well to the lads’ sense of humor, but would he be as receptive to the crude jokes that Bofur favored or to the sharp insults that Nori threw around casually? Thorin and Dwalin were prone to lashing out when under exceptional stress - would Baggins be more likely to take such attacks personally or respond in kind? Dori’s greatest fears, though, had revolved around what reaction the man would have to their offer. Would Baggins’ desire to work on Mahal be strong enough to overpower whatever caution he might hold for Urulóki? The company had no funding to spare and the state of Erebor’s coffers was better left uncontemplated. Would Baggins be willing to accept payment upon success of the mission, upon reactivation and restoration of Mahal? What price would he name, too, if all their efforts failed?

 

Dori and Ori had arrived at Baggins’ residence in the evening and the food and company that welcomed them was, for the most part, a relief. Baggins had been much less talkative than he’d anticipated, but whether that had been due to nerves or the guests the local found himself entertaining - _and he couldn’t fault Balin for not keeping his brute of a brother on a tighter leash when he had trouble ensuring that his own brother was well behaved -_ or whether it had been the fact that there’d only been the barest of warnings before said guests arrived - _Greyhame was on his shit list now, as well_ \- Dori had yet to determine.

 

The post-dinner conversation had been distressing - _to their king and their host especially_ \- but informative. Dori had contemplated explaining to Greyhame exactly how dangerous to all of them - _Baggins, included_ \- hoarding information of that sort could be, but refrained for the moment. Baggins had agreed to accompany them and that was the important part of it. Even with the company failing to provide a good first impression, though, the information Dori had been able to glean about their newest member had been worth a mountain of gold.

 

The Durinson brothers were going to be good for Baggins. They adored him and he trusted them and they were possibly the best social foothold for him to have with this grouping. Dori might have to watch to make sure the lads didn’t become overly possessive, but Baggins looked capable of handling them on his own so far.

 

Ori had become comfortable with the local rather quickly and was considered “safe” by Baggins as well, judging by the morning’s events. He’d be in the best position to sympathize with Baggins about Durinson brothers’ antics.

 

Nori and Dwalin would have to be watched closely. They both had a history of refusing to “play well” with outsiders brought into the company and had already shown almost malicious intent toward the poor man. Dori was mostly certain that they wouldn’t do anything to deliberately harm Baggins, but it was best not to take risks.

 

Bofur, Bombur and Gloin could do with watching, as well. They weren’t a malevolent group on their own, but they were, at times, easily swayed and there were few who could sway those fellows faster than Nori and Dwalin.

  
Thorin had been cool to their host initially - _he was about as fond of locals as Nori and Dwalin were_ \- but had remembered his diplomacy lessons quickly enough. He had - _by the end of the evening_ - deemed the scientist “adequate enough”.

 

Balin had been helpful in controlling the mess his brother had made and had taken several well placed steps toward putting the newest member of the company at ease. Bifur had taken a neutral stance, preferring to watch Baggins as he interacted with everyone else. At least he hadn’t condemned the poor man yet.

 

Dori had spoken with Oin about Baggins at great length before retiring for the night. The medic had picked up on the same psychological red-flags that he had and they both agreed to keep their eyes open regarding how their upcoming travels might affect the newcomer.

 

This morning had been a trial of its own.

 

Dori had woken to find Ori missing, again. Initially, he had thought that the lad had just gone to fetch an early breakfast, but when a brief search of the kitchen, dining area, and surrounding rooms failed to reveal his youngest brother, he knew where the lad was. Of the people that Ori felt he had to be deceptive to spend time with, the young Durinson brothers were only ever on that list when the manner or timing of the visits were inappropriate. Say, for example, lying in bed with the two young men in the earliest hours of the morning.

 

Even putting aside the fact that it was inappropriate and potentially scandalous for two members of Erebor’s royal family to be found in such a compromising position, all three of the lads were getting a bit old to be piling into the same bed like younglings. He knew for a fact that Fili and Kili had no concept of personal space between themselves - _he pitied whatever drill instructor had been given the task to ensure they slept in their assigned beds while they’d trained at DELMA_ \- but what he was less sure of was whether Ori’s willingness to let them invade his own personal space was of his own choosing or, perhaps, an idea that the brothers sold him.

 

He’d asked Bofur to scare the three young men out from hiding and Ori had reappeared long enough to help with cleaning and to eat a brief breakfast before he disappeared again, this time with Nori. The timing was irritating - _he could’ve sworn that Ori had mentioned needing more of something the day before, but didn’t know if Ori’d had the chance to tell Balin or not_  -  but it was good for them to spend what time they could together.

 

He stood, now, by the front door of his host’s home, and watched as the lads whispered quietly with Thorin and Dwalin, while Baggins made his goodbyes with Greyhame.

 

“Make sure you lock the place up tight, old man. It’s the least you can do after abandoning me to suffer this adventure of yours without you.” His tone was as affectionate as it was sharp.

 

“Have no fears, dear Bilbo, I’ll ensure that your home is well cared for in your absence. Thorin’s company will take good care of you, I think, but even so, remember that I am only ever a call away and that while I may not be by your side, I will be doing all I can to clear your path from afar.” Greyhame’s voice was an endearing combination of affection, reassurance, and concern.

 

“Doing all you can to avoid doing anything yourself, I think you mean.” Baggins’ voice was tart but his smile was warm. “You take care of yourself, Gandalf.”

 

“Indeed. Good luck, my boy.”

 

They embraced and Dori averted his gaze. Dori glanced at Thorin, Dwalin, and the lads and was pleased to note that they seemed to be ready.

 

Dori turned back to Baggins, whose hands were fluttering at his sides, and offered a smile of his own. “Ready, then? We’d best choose our seats now before the lads decide they’ll be driving.”

 

Baggins relaxed a bit with that and cast a side-long glance to the lads. All three looked confused for a moment, before Kili burst into laughter and Fili flushed. Dori looked to his youngest brother and arched a brow. Ori shook his head. A private joke – at least Dori wasn’t the only one left out.

 

“I suppose we should be going, then,” Bilbo looked back to Dori.

 

Dori nodded and opened the door. “I suppose we should.”

 

“Smallest butt in the middle,” Kili sang on his way to the vehicle, opening the door for Ori to enter before him.

 

Ori made an offended sound, but slid into the middle of the back seat. “I thought it was youngest in the middle?”

 

“Not anymore,” Kili smirked. “Thanks to Ered Luin’s excellent nutritional program...”

 

Dori allowed himself a small sigh and prayed for patience.

  
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Baggins shifted in his seat before one hand made an aborted motion in the direction of the air vents. He settled for tugging at the collar of his shirt, instead.

 

“Are you feeling alright, Mister Baggins?” Dori kept his voice low, but the soft sounds of conversation coming from the back seat quieted even more.

 

“Bilbo, please.” The man took a measured breath and gave Dori a sidelong look. “And I’m fine, just fine. The air’s feeling a bit... stale, is all.”

 

Dori nodded, careful to keep his eyes on the road. “We could put the windows down, if you’d be more comfortable.”

 

Baggins nodded and Dori rolled the front windows down before he sent a look to Ori through the rear-view mirror. Ori nodded and the back windows were down a moment later. The man in the passenger’s seat gave a relieved sigh and closed his eyes, a grateful smile on his face as he leaned on the arm rest built into the door.

 

Static sounded over the ear piece and Dori startled.

 

“Echo One Four, this is Ironside, requesting status update, over.” Thorin’s voice was a bit louder than Dori had been expecting and he moved to lower the volume as the others checked in.

 

“This ‘s Molar,” Balin’s voice came next. “We’re experiencing some minor delays. Add fifteen t’ our ETA, over.”

 

“Roger that, Molar. Do you want some company? Over.”

 

“Negative, Ironside. Just crossed paths with a familiar friendly. Have disengaged an’ are now back on the path, over.”

 

“Playtime, here.” Bofur’s voice was brimming with laughter, as usual. “You know better than t’ mix business with pleasure, Molar. You’ve gotta start settin’ a better example, there’re the pups t’ think of, now, over.”

 

Three voices cussed and huffed behind Dori, but - _to his relief_ \- refrained from responding over the coms.

 

“Roger that, Molar. Playtime, mind your manners and update your status, over.”

 

“This ‘s Playtime,” Gloin’s gruff voice rang through the com. “Wilco that, Ironside. We’re on target an’ on schedule, over.”

 

Dori raised a hand up to the com. “This is Foxhound. We are on target and on schedule, over.”

 

“Roger that Echo One Four. Let’s try to keep our noses clean. Over and out.”

  
The small, if exasperated, smile on Dori’s face only lasted until he heard a soft groan from his passenger. The conversation being held in the back seat - _plotting revenge on Bofur, no doubt_ \- stopped entirely.

 

“Master Boggins?” Kili sounded young in his uncertainty.

 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Baggins took a steadying breath and held the seat belt away from his chest like it pained him. The man had slouched down in his chair, but his eyes were closed too tight and his free hand was gripping the armrest hard enough that his knuckles had turned white.

 

Dori allowed himself another sigh and began searching for a good spot to pull over.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

  
“Ironside, this is Foxhound. We’re taking a few moments to stretch our legs at the following coordinates,” Dori frowned at the map he was looking at before he read off a series of letters and numbers. “Over.”

 

“Roger that, Foxhound.” Thorin’s response was prompt and deceptively relaxed. “Weather update would be appreciated, over.”

 

“The weather’s sunny and clear at our end, but we’ve had a bit of a hiccup with Boxwood. It seems he -” Dori winced as the sounds of retching reached him. The Durinson brothers, who’d been hovering as close as Baggins would allow, were now making sounds of distress. “It seems he gets travel-sick, over.”

 

The coms were silent for a good minute - _long enough for Dori to be grateful that none of the younglings had had this trouble growing up_ \- before Thorin replied. “Roger that, Foxhound. What do you say, Starlight, over?”

 

Ori approached the vehicle, wide eyes the only sign of his own distress. He sorted through his rucksack for something and then returned to where Fili and Kili remained at Baggins’ side.

 

“Starlight here,” Oin spoke up. “Keep th’ windows down an’ have ‘im watch something on th’ horizon, something that won’t be moving around too much. If ye’ve got any hard candies - peppermint’s good, but ginger’s better - keep ‘im sucking on those, too. If that doesn’t cut it, give ‘im an antihistamine an’ let him sleep th’ rest of th’ trip off. We’ll re-evaluate when we rendezvous, over.”

 

Dori nodded to himself and watched as Fili sprinted back to the car from their position in the grass. He up-ended his own rucksack before grabbing an armload of items and dashing back to his charge.

 

“Playtime here,” Bofur’s bright voice chimed in again and Dori closed his eyes with a groan. “Just wanted t’ add that if none of those do any good, I have it on very good authority that suckin’ on a pickle helps t’ clear travel-sickness right up, over.”

 

“Shut your face, Holdfast,” Kili’s voice, sharp and straining, was a surprise to hear. When Dori glanced over at the group, he saw that Fili - _speaking softly and holding out a water bottle_ \- and Ori - _a small box in either hand_ \- were attending to Baggins while Kili stood stiffly, glaring at the horizon. “Just because _you_ can barely stop sucking on _pickles_ long enough to string two words together doesn’t mean -”

 

“ENOUGH.” Thorin’s voice thundered down the com-link and Dori was gratified to see that he wasn’t the only one flinching at the tone or the volume being used. “It seems some of you don’t grasp the gravity of our situation, so let me be very clear on this. Boxwood _did not_ have to join us. He stands to lose the most if this venture goes poorly and gain the least if it goes well, but either way, we need him more than he needs us. You do not have to like him, but you do have to be willing to work with him. If you feel that you cannot handle this, or if I am made aware of any more harassment aimed at his person, you will be disbanded from this company immediately and sent home. Need I repeat myself?”

 

The negatives were spoken quietly over the com and Dori watched the tension fade from the shoulders of the Durinson brothers. Baggins was accepting something from Ori and allowing the younglings to herd him to a patch of grass closer to the vehicle. His tone alternated between sharp and sullen, but Fili was smiling again and Kili was chattering on at a mile a minute, so Dori supposed that Baggins was feeling better.

 

“Wilco, Starlight, thank you.” Dori spoke into the com. “Changing course to Feather Path, over.”

 

“Roger that, Foxhound. Ironside, over and Out.”

 

“Feather Path?” Baggins looked up from where he sat on the ground. His voice was uneven, but his eyes were sharp.  “I don’t know of any road called Feather Path in these parts.”

 

Dori offered an apologetic smile. “It’s code, in case we’re overheard. Each unit was given an assigned route to travel and we’ll be breaking from ours.”

 

“We have to be careful with where we’re seen, in case someone recognizes us,” Kili continued. “So normally we take the most convoluted routes we can. We’re throwing off that plan, though, because of your... your, well...”

 

“Sensitive nature.” Dori supplied, trying not to smirk. He wouldn’t want Baggins to think he was being snide.

 

Kili nodded his thanks. “Your sensitive nature.” Bilbo snorted and arched a brow at the eldest Lorison and Dori’s apologetic smile returned. “Taking Feather Path means you’re taking the most direct way to get to your destination. Like, as the crow flies, but different.”

 

Baggins sighed, as if he’d been put upon, and scrubbed at his face with his hands before he turned to face Dori directly. “I’m sorry about that, and about the change in plans.”

 

Dori shook his head, pleased with the Shireling’s reaction. “No need for that. I take it this is the first time you’ve had this reaction?”

 

Baggins shook his head as well. “I don’t live too far away from the shops. I walk most of the time, but, when I can’t, I drive. I’ve never been sick like this before, though, even as a youngling.” Dori nodded in sympathy. “The boys have explained the options to me and I’ll be trying the hard candies first, I think. I react a bit strongly to medications, I’m afraid.”

 

Dori nodded again and shot a questioning look to Fili, who held up a small, clear bag of peppermints. _Gambling money_ , the youth signed. Dori allowed himself the opportunity to roll his eyes and looked back to Bilbo. “Ready?”

 

Bilbo nodded and climbed to his feet with Kili’s help. Bilbo slid back into the front seat of the vehicle and the three young men piled into the back seat again.

 

Dori bit back a sigh and took his own seat.

  
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Dori pulled up to the curb of a large, abandoned building and stopped behind two motorcycles already parked there. He let the younglings pour out of the vehicle and gave a reassuring nod to Bilbo - _who’d shot him a worried look, even if he did look more than relieved to be out of the transport for the moment_ \- before he sat back in his seat and looked up at the building again.

 

Most people didn’t take the time to appreciate the buildings that made up their world. They drafted plans and paid money to build them, they filled them with people and purpose, and then - _with the slightest excuse_ \- abandoned them. This particular building was crafted with function in mind, rather than beauty, but even in its disused state it was a thing to look on.

 

Dori looked at the cracked glass in its windows and the vines creeping up its walls. He thought of the various contractors that had come together to build the thing - _the largest school in District Shire, for a time_ \- and which of them were still in business. He thought of the various principals and teachers who had held the futures of so many younglings in their hands. He thought of all the younglings who had filled the building with chatter and laughter, and of the youngling who had drowned in the springs the building towered over.

 

Dori blinked at that thought. He pulled the keys from the ignition and slid out of the vehicle, but only made it as far as moving to the other side of the transport before he leaned back against it, tilting his head up and to the side so as to get a better view of the derelict place.

 

The girl’s name had been Daisy and she’d been adorable. She had probably been as much of a terror as she was a delight, adorable younglings often were. Her father had been a politician, young but prominent thanks to a silver tongue and the fortune of having been born into the right family at the right time. He had channeled the grief of losing his child - _his only child, then_ \- into destroying the teachers, defaming the board, and utterly ruining the principal. Other schools were built - _smaller, less ambitious buildings_ \- and this poor place was left, vacant and desolate, to be allowed to fall into the condition it was in today.

 

Dori shook his head and pulled himself upright, making his way for the front doors of the former school.

 

The politician was a bit older now- _and wiser, Dori hoped_ \- and well set up to become the next Thain, if he continued to move as prudently as he had been. If he continued to keep his mistress quiet, as well.

 

Dori navigated the corridors with practiced ease and made his way to the auditorium.

 

If the politician was unable to keep his affair in the shadows, he’d lose not only an election and any political support he’d amassed for himself, but also his wife and likely the respect of the two children born since his first child’s death.

 

Dori paused in the hall, just shy of the doors.

 

Years ago, only a handful of months after Erebor’s invasion, Thorin had approached the Lorisons with a request. The idea was dangerous and unsavory and had the potential to do more harm to their small family than good, but it fit Nori’s talents perfectly. Dori - _scrambling to save what he could of a crippled empire while ensuring his brothers’ safety_ \- had almost denied the young king. He and Nori had never been publicly affectionate, as some brothers were, but they had always been close and Dori had been - _desperate_ \- determined that his kin would not suffer any further. The need was real, though, and the plan that his brother and his king came up with was as sound as it could be. Unable to come up with any objection that wasn’t based on the selfish need to keep his brother near and safe, Dori gave his blessings.

 

To keep Dori’s reputation respectable and the worst of the dangers away from young Ori - _and to form the foundation of the reputation that Nori would need_ \- they staged a falling out. The execution was flawless, the rumors and gossip spread beautifully, and Nori ceased to be - _in public_ \- his brother. Dori was disappointed and hypercritical in public and Nori was sardonic and derisive. Any interactions they were “forced” into were “strained” and young Ori grew up believing that his elder brothers disdained each other. The farce worked - not one of the people that moved in Nori’s new circles - _friend or foe_ \- ever came knocking.  Communication between them was difficult at best, of course, but it had the benefit of teaching Ori - _who loved both his brother’s equally, no matter their bitter feud_ \- stealth and discretion and the sort of critical thinking that so many families forgot to teach their younglings. It taught Ori, too, that sometimes secrets must be kept from the ones you love, for their own good.

 

That last was a lesson that Dori hoped that Ori remembered when it came time for Dori and Nori to reveal the lie that they’re feud truly was. That Ori wouldn’t understand - _that he would be angry and hurt and would turn away from both of them_ \- was a worry that Dori tried not to dwell on overly much. Only time would tell, after all.

 

Ahead of him, the door to the auditorium opened and Ori emerged, almost knocking Dori over in his haste.

 

“Dori!” Ori blinked then broke into a grin. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

 

Dori shook his head. “I’m fine. I was just indulging in a bit of thought.”

 

Ori’s smile dimmed, but didn’t fade completely.  There was concern in his eyes, but if he had questions, he didn’t voice them. “Ah, plotting more of those Machiavellian plots of yours?”

 

“Always,” Dori chuckled. “But I can finish them another time, I suppose.”

 

“Good! You spend too much time in your head, I think.” The words were gentled with affection and laughter but the concern was genuine. “Come in. Join us. Mister Bilbo is teaching us how to play Seeds and Stones.”

 

“Seeds and stones?”

 

Ori nodded, the brightness returning to his smile. “It’s a card game. It seems fairly simple at first, but don’t let that fool you! The way it works is -”

  
Dori bit back an affectionate sigh and followed his youngest brother into the room

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“Bilbo?”

 

The other man startled, then relaxed. He rubbed at his eyes - _one of the Durinson brothers snickered_ \- and offered an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Think I might’ve drifted off there for a moment.”

 

Dori smiled and nodded. “We’re getting closer to the city. I thought I might roll up the windows and turn the air on.”

 

Baggins blinked at him a moment, then looked out the windscreen to where the road was leading them.

 

Bree would never be Hobbiton, but it wasn’t so hard to look at in the waning light. It was the same as any other transit town. Transports, travelers, and vagrants were the only ones who frequented their streets - people who didn’t care about the trash that collected in the gutters or the graffiti that colored the walls. The walls were made up of brick and rough stone and the windows were all either cracked or dark with grime. It was one of the few cities to have survived the Great War, and, as such, it bore the scars of an era that had moved on. The buildings that lined the streets were weathered and worn, their heights and styling mismatching so much that it might easily have been deliberate - perhaps even artistic, once upon a time. The sky was hidden from view by a lattice of wrought iron supports and rusted cross beams, slender cables and odd wires woven in between. The trains that had once rattled glass throughout the city’s borders no longer moved through the city, but the tracks, which continued to tower over the streets, still saw use. The citizens here were nothing if not pragmatic.

 

It was not the sort of place where a traveler would be attacked without provocation, but there was no sense in tempting fate.

 

Bilbo seemed to be of a similar mind, as he shifted away from the now-closed window and ensured that his door was locked before he angled the vents so that they were aimed more directly at him.

 

Dori took a moment to catch Fili’s eye in the rear-view mirror. The lad nodded before gently waking his two companions.

 

Twenty minutes after they properly entered the city, they arrived at their destination.

The Prancing Pony stood ten stories tall, made of brick and steel. Its windows were narrow and tinted dark by the smoke its occupants favored. The trash that lined the city’s streets was more pervasive here, but the parking lot adjacent to the building was kept clear for the most part.

 

The place was a bit rough to be calling itself an inn, but Dori had to admit that its style was in keeping with the rest of the city. The beds were clean, the food was hearty, and the drinks weren’t watered much. The staff never asked questions and - _possibly its most endearing quality_ \- what locals there were who frequented the place tended to keep to themselves.

 

Dori pulled into a parking space next to where Thorin and Dwalin stood leaning against their motorcycles. The younglings piled out of the vehicle again and Baggins did a better job of hiding his relief at being out of the transport this time.

 

Thorin caught Dori’s gaze almost immediately and nodded toward the inn.

 

Dori nodded and made his way to the entrance, trusting the two military men to keep the younglings out of trouble.

 

Baggins started to follow along, then paused and looked back at the others, who hadn’t moved. Out of all of them, only Thorin was watching Bilbo’s actions and he was being discreet about it.

 

Dori paused and looked over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to accompany me, if you like.”

 

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you.”

 

Dori smiled and led the way inside.

 

The first floor was more bar than restaurant, but it didn’t seem to be overly occupied just yet. Most of the patrons who had already settled in were seated at the bar, but a few were scattered throughout the rest of the room. Luckily, there was a stretch of wall in the far right corner that was currently unoccupied.

 

Dori approached the bartender about arranging for rooms, but the fellow - _tall, lanky, sallow skin and limp, brown hair_ \-  took one look at him and his expression soured. His tone was sharp, his body language dismissive, and his phrasing was borderline hostile. Butterbur happened to pass by before his employee could say anything too damning, though, and was quick to accommodate Dori’s requests.

 

Butterbur sent young Nob - _Dori made a note to research the man thoroughly at the next opportunity_ \- over to help Baggins with moving several of the tables together, and his smile had a desperate edge to it as he poured their drinks.

 

“I wouldn’t worry yourself over him too much, Mister Hadson. Nob’s a new hire - still learning the ropes, as it were. He’s got a bit of a sore spot for anyone from District Ered Luin, but he’s learning quick that that sort of rot won’t be tolerated in this establishment.” Dori nodded - _pleased to see that the owner of such a useful place was still clever enough to be so cautious of him_ \- and offered Butterbur a bland smile. “I’ll have a chat with the boy and remind him about how we treat valued guests here and, in the meantime, we’ll get you a nice warm meal for you and your friends, on the house.”

 

Dori allowed his smile to warm. “Only if you’re sure it won’t put you out, Mister Butterbur. I know how difficult it can be to find work in a city like this,” he paused long enough to meet his host’s gaze. “Let alone run a business.”

 

Butterbur’s strained smile faded and he searched Dori’s face with frantic eyes. “Please, call me Barliman - and it’s no trouble at all, not in the least. How many rooms did you say you were needing? I’m sure we could find a discount for you...”

 

Dori finalized their lodging arrangements while the rest of the company filtered into the room and accepted Butterbur’s help with bringing the drinks over. Everyone was quick to take their seats - _he’d had to clear his throat and frown when Nori made to sit next to Ori, but his eyes were sharp enough to catch that something was slid into their youngest brother’s pocket_ \- and more than pleased to tuck into the beverages.

 

The twelve of them were able to huddle around the table rather closer than one might think possible, ensuring that Bilbo’s question about the Durinson brothers was easily heard.

 

“They’re on first shift for mindin’ the wheels,” Bofur answered. “They’ve had an experience or two with the drink here an’ they’ve grown a bit unfond of the place.”

 

Bilbo shifted, but seemed to accept this answer.

 

The conversation remained light until the food was served. Ori took two of the plates - _and two bundles of silverware, good lad_ \- out to Fili and Kili, and the table fell into a tense silence as soon as Ori took his first step away. Some of the company - _Bofur and Gloin_ \- took to shifting, while others - _Nori, Bombur, and Bilbo_ \- held themselves overly still.

 

Bifur tapped out the coded knock assigned to Dori before he started signing. _Advance. Your transmissions to headquarters go through clear. Lead us forward._

 

Dori gave a slight nod and took a moment to gather his thoughts before he turned to his king. “Thorin?” The younger man looked up from where he was speaking with Dwalin. “Now that we know who will and will not be joining us on our travels, I was hoping we might discuss where our journey will be leading us.”

 

Thorin glanced at the men surrounding him before he nodded. He produced a map and the company’s mood became expectant as soon as it touched the table.

 

“Here,” he set his finger down on the map. “Is District Shire. We followed the East Road from there to where we are now.” His finger traced along a particular line to tap the symbol that represented Bree. Thorin glanced up at Balin, who nodded, and then at Dori.

 

There wasn’t a member of the company who didn’t know how to read a map - _except for Bilbo_ \- and Thorin’s patience - _which was in short enough supply as it was_ \- was likely stretched to its thinnest after two long days of travel and the events in between. It was kind of him, and wise, to take the time to help Bilbo orient himself on the map.

 

Dori gave an encouraging smile to his king and made a mental note to ensure that their newest member was taught map reading, as well.

 

Thorin’s attention returned to the map. “From here we’ll be headed north into the Ettenmoors, following the Hoardale River. We’ll take Golfimbul Pass through the Misty Mountains and stop at the Mount Gram settlement for resupply, then follow Rhimdath to Lang-”

 

“W- can’t d- that,” Kili’s voice came through on the coms. “Th- Rushdowns are flooded this time of year and the Rhimdath will be too full of silt and muck to resupply from.”

 

“There’s ways enough t’ filter the water.” Oin waved his hand at the map as if the youth was there to see the gesture. “There’s folk been drinking from those rivers since before we had the filters an’ chemicals t’ force it clean. We can make do with a few extra supplies.”

 

Bofur leaned closer to the map, eyes moving along the different lines. “That area’s bogged enough with mud an’ silt in the dry seasons, though. The moss’ll grow right over the edges of the water if it holds still long enough. It’ll only take a moment to catch a wheel in a trap like that an’ all day to fish it back out.”

 

“No’ all day,” Dwalin shook his head. “We’ll be travelin’ all together an’ there’ll be enough ‘ands tha’ we’ll be able t’ pull it out o’ th’ muck as soon as it gets caught.”

 

“-Ey -ad a drought -ast year,” Ori added. Dori frowned. Bifur would have to see to that com static if it persisted. “The ice caps at the peaks were smaller this past winter, too. I don’t think we’ll have much flooding to worry about.”

 

Thorin looked to each member of the company as they spoke, looking back to the map when the lads spoke via com, and nodded before he tapped the map again. “The north bank of the Rhimdath stands at an average of three to four yards higher than the south bank. We’ll be keeping to the north side, so the flooding shouldn’t be an issue, but we’ll stock up on water at the settlement and we can pick up extra supplies for water filtration tonight. It won’t hurt to have back up.” There was a pause, but, when no one else voiced any objections, Thorin continued. “We’ll follow Rhimdath to the Langflood river and then follow that north to District Ered Mithrin.”

 

Dori cleared his throat.

 

Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes, but gave an amused smile as he nodded.

 

“Onar Northrison leads that district and our relationship with him is shaky at best.”

 

Balin frowned. “I thought we were in discussions with his people. Aren’t we in a tentative alliance?”

 

“Tentative being the key word,” Dori snorted. “Even setting aside the _tentativeness_ of our alliance with them, the D.E.M. boarders Gundabad, which is where the Mágols like to hide their sell-swords.” He looked around the table - _Nori rolled his eyes to the left_ \- before he continued. “Their numbers have been increasing in that area lately.”

 

“The Ered Mithrin folk are a conservative, radically religious lot.” Bombur spoke up. “They possess only the crudest technologies, they use fewer conveniences than even the Mount Gram folk do, an’ they’re terribly territorial. They believe that by livin’ primal lives - huntin’ an’ gatherin’, carvin’ their homes out from the rock, an’ protectin’ their mountains from the impure - that the Valar will save them from the next Great War. Some of them actually believe that the Valar will turn them into bein’s made of stone, if they’re pious enough.” Bombur rubbed the tips of his fingers across his lips as he spoke, but his eyes were on the ceiling. After sitting in on several of the professor’s classes, Ori declared this Bombur’s ‘lecture face’. “Northrison is distantly related to the Durinson line, but the relation dates back to before the Great War an’ his folk hate Erebor an’ all it represents now. The only people they hate more than the Durinsons right now are the Mágols an’ their ORCS - mostly because the Mágols’ folk won’t respect their borders.”

 

“They’re said to eat the flesh of their enemies.” Nori added. “Thinks it makes them stronger.”

 

Dori flashed a sharp look at the middle Lorison, but read only genuine curiosity in his brother’s body language. Bombur’s face, on the other hand, lit up.

 

“No, actually, the rumors of cannibalism are absurd - they wouldn’t risk offendin’ the Valar like that. Now what is true, is that they have a tendency to torture any outsiders they find trespassin’. D’ you know that recently they’ve been findin’ more an’ more severed limbs scattered about the foot of the Ered Mithrin mountains? Most of them still wrapped up in ORCS armor. An’ just two weeks ago they found the body of an unidentified male, disemboweled! Oh, but he wasn’t just disemboweled! You see, -”

 

“Thank you, Bombur,” Balin’s voice was smooth, but his smile strained itself at the corners of his lips. “That’s a good point.”

 

Dori fought back a smirk. Balin was fine on the battlefield, and hand him a map and a handful of figurines and he was a tactical genius, but speak of a bit of gore and the man’s lunch might reappear.

 

“Uh, excuse me?” Bilbo seemed to flinch back under the sudden attention his comment garnered him, but it didn’t deter him from speaking. “Why don’t we just fly there? Surely there’s someone who will rent or sell a plane or a helicopter to us?” He looked to Thorin, frowning. “It would be faster and easier, and surely safer, if we went by air, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Not as safe as you’d think, actually.” Balin sighed and looked to Thorin - _who gave a subtle nod_ \- before he continued. “Mirkwood isn’t a viable option by foot or by air. Mirkwood’s hostile t’ all outsiders, more so t’ the refugees of District Erebor an’ even more than that t’ the Durinsons in particular. Traveling by air makes us vulnerable, as well. There’s not a district in Middle Earth that doesn’t have some sort of ground-to-air defense an’ you can still find automated systems active - more so in the mountains than anywhere else - that were set int’ place before the Great War. It’s just not worth the risk. That leaves us with ground travel an’, of that, skirting Mirkwood t’ the south would add six months t’ a year t’ our journey, depending on how easily it goes.” Balin’s eyes moved over the map. “That’s not t’ say traveling north will be easy - there‘re dangers - but, out of all our options, District Ered Mithrin allows us a more controlled setting an’ it offers us the least risk.”

 

“Ah.” The sound Bilbo made was a bit strangled, but he nodded and an uncomfortable silence fell over the group.

 

“Pl-s, we -ave - socio-political advantage over them.” Ori’s voice came over the coms again. “Mister Nothrison doesn’t have any children of his own, and he has scores of nephews, but only one niece. He’s rather fond of her and she’s...” There was a pause. “Well she’s rather fond of me. Or she was last time I saw her.” Another pause, this one longer. “We might be able to use that.”

 

Laughter filled the coms, Kili’s laughter, although Fili was laughing loud enough to be heard as well. “-e -ave to go through the D.E.M. now, Uncle! Quest bedamned, we cannot stand in the way of a love as pure and ageless as this! We cannot -”

 

Thorin groaned and hid his face in his hands while the rest of the company broke into various smiles and chuckles. The uncomfortable tension that had hung in the air before was gone now.

 

Ori had a valid point. It would be a good option to keep available, but only if necessary. Dori took great pains to keep Ori out of as many of his political moves as possible, but what concerned him more was the potential reaction of the Durinson brothers. They were all teasing and laughter now, but when - _if_ \- it came down to Ori encouraging affection from a young lady to ease their path... The Durinsons were often many things, but one of those things, frequently, was possessive - especially these brothers.

 

“It was just information I thought might be helpful.” Ori’s voice was strained, annoyed but respectful.

 

“It’s good information t’ have, thank you, Ori.” Balin’s amusement was clear to hear.

 

Thorin scrubbed at his face. “Traveling through District Ered Mithrin is the fastest, safest option available right now. If there were more of us, we’d be traveling a different route, but with our numbers so low, I want to reduce as much of our travelling time as I can. The less we’re on the road, the less we’ll be open to attack, the less likely we are to be diverted from our destination before we reach it.”

 

Dori sighed. It was not the route that he would have preferred, but battle tactics was not his division and he trusted Balin - _and his influence over the king_ \- enough to be able to make peace with this decision.

 

Thorin reached for his drink and gestured to the map again. “We’ll pass through District Ered Mithrin and approach Erebor from the west side. There’s a gate there - one that -” Thorin paused to clear his throat. “One that most don’t know of. We’ll use this to infiltrate the district, make our way to the capitol and from there we’ll find somewhere to set up. We’ll need to assess everything - what areas are and aren’t still being used, what sort of defenses Urulóki has set up, and how much manpower he’s using. We’ll need to be prepared for doing a fair bit of recon before we can make our move.”

 

Thorin hesitated, his eyes fixed on the map before he raised them to meet the eyes of the company that was gathered around him. “This plan is not perfect. Things will happen that will disrupt or delay it. Details have been left vague so that we have more room to work with, but even then, there may come an occasion where we have to change the plan suddenly and quickly. I need all of you to remain flexible enough to be able to respond to that if it becomes necessary.” He paused again. “Are there any questions?”

 

Dori remained silent as the others asked for more detail or expressed their concerns. He had enough information for now. Instead, he mulled over the route that Thorin had suggested.

 

There were shady types that could be found around the Hoardale River. Nothing organized or skilled enough to pose a threat to them, but they’d have to keep a sharp eye on the supplies, especially at night.

 

The Mount Gram settlement was primitive and lived simply, but they were fond of Bifur and Bofur, so dealing with them shouldn’t be any trouble. He’d have to check to see that they had extra soap and ask Thorin to send someone for spices - _salt, if nothing else_ \- as well as tobacco.

 

There was a transient community that moved along the Langwell, but sometimes they could be found along the Langflood this time of year. They were a rough bunch - _too chaotic for his tastes, too bloodthirsty, but they weren’t ORCS by a far shot_ \- and they’d have to be careful to hide Bilbo from sight, but they’d trade for bullets and sometimes for blades. With timing and luck - _good or ill would be hard to say_ \- they might be able to cross paths.

 

Ered Mithrin was another story entirely. A tedious and convoluted story that relied entirely too much on a role only his youngest brother could fill and one he’d much rather avoid altogether. Fortunately, he had a bit of time to play with the idea before any action would need to be taken. Nori might have more to contribute at that end, as well.

 

He was just trying to recall if he’d heard anything recently about any of the smaller settlements that had always clung to the outskirts of Erebor, when a burst of static came through the coms. There were more than a few of the company to flinch at the sudden noise.

  
“Sun-ay, thi- Foxhound Alpha. Weather’s turning ugly -” The rest of Fili’s message was lost to static.

  
The company, save Bilbo, became tense.

  
Thorin, Dwalin and Nori were all on their feet before Thorin replied. “Sunray here. Say again, Foxhound, over.”

  
No one moved, waiting for a response from the boys. Bilbo, the clever thing he was, realized that something was happening that he wasn’t being included on. He tensed and his eyes darted around the table before they settled on Dori, who held a finger up.

 

“Repeat, say again, Foxhound.”

 

The waiting stretched out. The tension was pulling tighter and Dori found himself holding his breath. Thorin looked to Dwalin and Nori - _who each gave a nod_ \- and the three began to make for the front doors, when another burst of static erupted over the coms.

 

“Fu- the code. We’ve got a dozen incoming with all kinds of blunts and sharps. Get your arses out here fast if you don’t want to be scraping ours off the pavement. Ah, shi-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, any delay that may or may not have occurred in the getting of this chapter to you is brought to you by Real Life and absolute none of the blame is to ever fall on the shoulders of the ever patient and wonderful Smalls (who is a writer-wrangler extraordinaire!)
> 
> Oh and don't be afraid to review... they will be replied to, eventually... I promise!


	10. Serpentes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honor, family, and duty - it doesn't always mean the same for everyone, but that doesn't keep a person from trying to do right by their kin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Slither by Velvet Revolver. We have a second song, Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie, dedicated to a new group you'll be meeting in this chapter, the Dunlanders. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> *I didn't realize until this morning that all of the lovely italicized parts didn't translate! They *should* all be fixed now. I cry pardon!

“Fu- the code.” - _Fili preferred to let his brother speak for him, he didn’t like to cuss where Thorin could hear him_ \- “We’ve got a dozen incoming with all kinds of blunts and sharps.” - _the faint sounds of at least three large men and one woman could be heard over Fili’s voice_ \- “Get your arses out here fast if you don’t want to be scraping ours off the pavement.” - _Dis’ boys had known how to defend themselves since before their tenth year, they were charming enough to talk their way out of most violence and overconfident in their fighting abilities_ \- “Ah, shi-”

 

Something cold and heavy settled in Nori’s gut.

 

He was at the door before he was aware that he was moving - _Dwalin was five yards behind him, Thorin was three yards behind Dwalin, the rest of the company was finding their feet_ \- and then he was in the street. In the time it took him to move from the entrance to the parking lot, he had estimated how long they had before the local law arrived - _if anyone called them_ \- calculated a dozen different reasons that the company would be attacked - _at this time, at this place, using these methods_ \- and determined the safest route to the nearest bolt-hole.

 

Nori didn’t pause once his targets - _clothing ratty and mismatched, hair coarse and matted, scarring prominent on any and all visible skin_ \- were in sight. Instead, he arced around the gathering - _Fili had his blades out, Kili brandished a butterfly knife, Ori remained unarmed_ \- aiming to reach their far flank.

 

“Eight hostiles - six men, two women. Build and dress place them from Dunland. Visual on Alpha, Bravo, and Pronto - no injuries observed. Pups are pinned to the right flank of the truck, blades drawn. On enemies, I have visual on two swords, a wooden club, heavy chains and a shotgun. Further weapons hidden. In position, over.”

 

Nori ducked behind a large van three rows away from his targets - _erratic speech and cruel laughter, accents placed them from Dunland, too_ \- and positioned himself so that he had a good visual. The brats had their backs to the truck bed - _Fili and Kili shielding Ori_ \- trapped between the supply truck and the transport that they had ridden in earlier. Three large, heavily armed men - _swords and club_ \- blocked their escape to the front of the establishment. One male - _shotgun_ \- and two females - _chains in the smaller one’s hands_ \- blocked their other exit, with the largest of the eight hostiles standing directly in front of the brats. The smallest male - _older, scrawny but wiry_ \- had already made his way into the truck bed and was sorting through the supplies as if he were looking for something specific.

 

“One hostile in the bed, sorting through our knickers. Largest male is positioned directly in front of the pups, best candidate for leader. You’ll need to clear a path.”

 

Dwalin and Thorin rounded the corner at a run - _Kili flinched away from the closest woman, eyes wide_ \- but the group didn’t show any signs of noticing them. Dwalin took point and plowed into three of the men - _no resistance_ \- clearing the way for Thorin, who lunged past him, throwing all his weight into the motion. Dwalin was on his feet again in a flash, taking up a defensive stance between the pups and the three hostiles - _freeing Fili, who moved to shield Kili_ \- as Thorin connected with his target and they both hit the ground.

 

Nori took advantage of the distraction to change his position. He slipped from behind the van - _the leader was cussing as he tried to catch his breath, but the rest were quiet_ \- to behind a civilian transport and dropped to a crouch. He glanced beneath the carriage of the vehicle in time to see Thorin land a solid blow to the man’s temple - _and the target’s head bounce lightly off the cement, too easy to hear in the silence_ \- and two of the felled Dunlanders finding their feet. He broke cover again, keeping low, and darted past three more transports - _twice he heard the distinct sound of knuckle dusters on flesh, the grunts of men taking blows, and two bodies falling_ \- before stopping behind a collection of motorcycles one row away.

 

“Who the _FUCK_ do you think you are?” Thorin’s words were a low, menacing growl.

 

Nori scanned the surrounding area - _the lot, the street, the windows, the rooftops_ \- for any traces of additional hostiles, but didn’t pick up any of the signs that should show that the enemy had back up present. The hostiles remained silent, save for one of the women - _the younger_ \- who burst into a fit of giggles before being shushed by her friend.

 

“I asked you a question!” Thorin’s voice - _deep, harsh, commanding_ \- bounced off the surrounding buildings.

 

Nori moved to peer around the motorcycles, changing his line of sight a dozen times, but wasn’t able to get a clear visual of the hostiles. The silence stretched on further, uninterrupted - _not by any of them, they had to be waiting for something_ \- until it was broken by the crack of a skull bouncing off of pavement.

 

Nori tensed, readying himself to move even closer to the group - _another 10 to 15 seconds before the rest of the company arrived_ \- and startled when the first peals of laughter - _no hysteria, all confidence and anticipation_ \- rang out.

 

His face ran hot and cold at the sound - _what did they know? what advantage did they have that he wasn’t seeing?_ \- and the tips of his fingers tingled as the other hostiles added their laughter to the one who’d voiced it first. He started moving before the laughter died off and didn’t stop until all that kept him out of sight was the company’s transport.

 

“Gah, Sharly! I say we should give up on the runts an’ you should try this ’un on fer size!”

 

Thorin had the giant of a man pinned to the ground, but the hostile - _should be angry, afraid_ \- only looked amused. Thorin’s face was a mask of controlled rage, but Nori could see the signs - _shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, leaning just the slightest bit to the left_ \- that he was trying to ready himself for whatever these fucks were about to throw at him.

 

“His eyes a’ so pretty an’ that voice!” One of the women - _older, some resemblance to the other, less clothing, longer hair, more vocal_ \- stepped forward - _Fili shifted to stay between her and the other brats_ \- to stand within touching range of Thorin and his target. “He does look like he’d be a whole barrel of fun.” She reached out to touch Thorin’s hair and he jerked away. The air filled with laughter again. “Aw, but if he ain’t shy, too. You’d think he’s their daddy o’ somethin’, huh?”

 

Kili jerked forward, fire in his eyes, but his lips remained pressed tight together. Smart boy. Nori couldn’t see the woman’s face, but he did see Thorin’s eyes narrow and the sneer that warped his mouth was the same one Kili wore.

 

“What is it you want?” Thorin’s words were low and tight. His hands - _still preoccupied with keeping his target pinned_ \- tightened enough that his knuckles turned white.

 

“Aw, we a’ just looking fo’ a bit of fun, suga’,” the woman drawled. “Sellin’ whateva it is you have in that truck is gonna make us _real_ fuckin’ rich, but we don’t have to fight over it. In fact, there’s no reason the lot of us can’t be _real_ friendly.” She reached out to touch Thorin again - _forcing him to accept her touch or give up his hold on his target_ \- when the other woman spoke.

 

“He sure does have pretty eyes, Sharly,” the other woman - _the giggler, only a few years older than Fili_ \- simpered. “The one boy looks just like him, too - all dark hair an’ blue eyes.” - _Fili shifted to better block his brother from sight_ \- “you think I could have Junior to play with? Huh, Sharly? Please?”

 

The first woman snapped her head up to face the brats. Kili flinched back the smallest amount - _disgust visible in his eyes for only a moment_ \- before he recovered, while Fili maintained his position. Thorin’s expression darkened, though whether the hostiles noticed was undetermined. Whatever the woman picked up on, her voice was possessive when she spoke. “Hell no, Daddy and Juni’ah ah mine.”

 

“But Sharly....” The whine was cut off by a slap to the face. The male standing next to the younger woman rubbed her back as if to comfort, but none of the rest reacted otherwise.

 

“Shut it, child,” Sharly snarled. “I said no an’ I meant it. Don’t make me tell you ‘gain.” She paused and looked at the brats again. “You can have Goldilocks an’ the little ‘un.”

 

The younger woman brightened immediately. “Really, Sharly? You mean it?”

 

Sharly laughed - _high pitched and light hearted_ \- “Sure! Sides, these two’ll have enough fight in ‘em to keep me enta’tained for days,” she turned back to look at Thorin and Nori retreated to the far side of the transport.

 

“Change of target,” He pitched his voice just loud enough for the coms to pick up. “Leadership is either owned or possibly shared with the older female - she’ll be the one showing more skin.”

 

“Dunlanders are a rough group to fight, lad, especially if they feel cornered.” Balin’s voice was pitched low as well. “I’m holding the rest back until we’re needed so we can avoid putting them on the defensive.”

 

“You sods are too clumsy to dance with anyway.” Nori ran the tips of his fingers over his lips. The tingling in them had yet to fade. “We can always try -”

 

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM!”

 

Nori whirled around, fast enough to catch Kili drawing his pistol - _blade in his offhand now_ \- and setting it on the younger Dunlander woman with eyes blazing. Fili bodily blocked his brother from reaching her, but Kili only adjusted to aim over his shoulder. Ori clung to the younger Durinson brat from behind and didn’t make any move to nudge Kili’s gun hand down.

 

“I don’t care what that crone says! You’ll not touch either of them!” Kili’s words - _dripping with hate, too much desperation too soon_ \- only brought about more laughter.

 

“Ooo, this ‘un’s got fire in his eyes,” the younger lady grinned. She moved to reach out to Kili this time, but Fili blocked the way, tolerating her touch despite his brother’s protests.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Fili caught the girl’s eye - _just the way Nori taught him to_ \- and offered her a slow, silky smile. “Doesn’t share well. He’s all talk, really.”

 

The girl uttered a screech of a noise and flushed, grinning like mad, while Ori struggled to redirect Kili’s aim. The girl laid her hand on Fili’s cheek, then moved to run her fingers through his hair. Fili leaned into the touch, maintaining eye contact, and to anyone who didn’t know him - _tightness around the eyes, smile showing too many teeth, left hand drifting back just the slightest bit_ \- he seemed pleased with the arrangement.

 

Nori blinked and the solution was upon him.

 

“Eryn Vorn.” He whispered into the coms. “We use the Eryn Vorn play. Sunray plays my part and Alpha will stand where Sunray stood before. Pronto has a slip of the tongue to start us off and we’ll move the scene to a more secure setting. I’ll run support for Sunray Major, while Minor and the pups entertain the grunts. You know what to do when you hear the signal, Minor. We’ll behead the serpent and the rest will be on you.”

 

Nori waited, listening for any of the coded, hidden methods the other might use to object, but none came. He scanned his surroundings again.

 

“We’ll set the stage for you,” Dori murmured. “We’ll need a minute or two to prepare, though.”

 

Nori chanced another glance through the windows of the vehicle he was next to. Kili’s eyes were wide and his mouth warped in a semi-permanent snarl. Ori was doing well holding him back from attacking, but only because Kili didn’t want to hurt the youngest Lorison.

 

Nori didn’t have to strain himself to make his voice terse. “Move quickly.”

 

There was no response.

 

Nori returned to his previous position, crouching just out of sight behind the transport, rather than on the far side of it. This position was riskier, but gave him a better visual of the situation.

 

“Now, this is important, Major,” He kept some of the urgency in his voice. “I know it’s been a while, but brooding’s not going to work for this one. You’ll need to use those other facial expressions you’ve been practicing.” It was, perhaps, a touch cruel of him to taunt Thorin like this, but it truly was much too good of an opportunity to pass up. Besides, he’d just count this a repayment for the ‘little black dress’ incident and call it even. “You... have been practicing, haven’t you?”

 

Dwalin coughed once, softly - _he always had the most trouble keeping a straight face_ \- but Balin was the only one to break the com silence. “Let’s keep com use to information and productive communication for now, eh, lads?”

 

There were additional comments that flitted through Nori’s mind, but he held his peace - for now.

 

Both groups were silent again. The hostiles seemed content to watch Kili wind himself up tighter and tighter - _the brat knew better than to allow his true emotions so close to the surface_ \- while Fili all but purred and pressed into the younger girl’s hand. Ori pulled Kili further away from Fili, whispering something into the boy’s ear, but before anyone could react to that, there was a triumphant shout from within the supply pile.

 

The scrawny male - _balding, skin pock-marked_ \- climbed out of the pile of supplies, brandishing a glass jar of thick, clear fluid. Neither Thorin, Fili, nor Kili reacted to the sight of it, but Ori - _always a sharp memory_ \- paled and his grip on Kili’s shoulder tightened. Dwalin was better about hiding his reaction - _the three downed hostiles were climbing to their feet again, he was a bit distracted_ \- but he moved more of his weight to the balls of his feet and shifted to keep the smaller man in his peripheral vision.

 

“Looky, looky, looky!” The gaunt creature scrambled down to the pavement. His movements were erratic, but the hand that held the bottle was steady. “Looky whut I got!”

 

Sharly looked from the smaller man to Thorin and back. The man stopped just out of Thorin’s - _and Sharly’s_ \- reach.

 

“Well, spit it out, Twitch! What is it?” Her tone was sharp, but there was curiosity behind it.

 

The man looked at each of the captured members of the company closely before he turned back to Sharly. “This here,” he tilted the jar so that the liquid sloshed gently. “Is yer boom juice. Fancy folk call it nitroglycerin.”

 

The silence returned for a handful of heartbeats before Sharly turned back to Thorin - _wearing a vicious smile, if her voice was anything to go by_ \- “You packin’ nitro, Daddy? What’s a family man like you doin’ packin’ nitro fo’?”

 

Thorin kept his mouth shut and scowled at the brats. When Ori flushed and cringed under his gaze, Thorin narrowed his eyes and raised a single brow. When that failed to produce a response, he cleared his throat. The younger girl opened her mouth to talk again, but Ori spoke first.

 

“ItwasRed’sidea.” The words were rushed - _Ori was good about incorporating existing emotions into his act_ \- and his eyes closed tight. “He s- s- said they were going to be fleecing us and - and maybe they just needed a little encouragement to p- pay full p- price. He said that if they came to their senses before then, we could always - could always throw it in with the rest...”

 

The change in Thorin’s posture was small - _Kili froze in Ori’s hold and Fili stiffened, both watching Thorin closely now, but Dwalin only cussed, softly but creatively_ \- but conveyed his disappointment and frustration better than words. Snickers and chuckles made their way through the hostiles and the younger female cooed reassuringly at Ori, reaching for him as well, but Kili was very adamant about keeping at least Ori out of reach.

 

“Goddamn,” laughter came loudest from one of the three that Dwalin stood against. “The runt can’t keep his lip buttoned to save his life. Betcha if ya sneezed at him you’d know his whole life story!”

 

Ori flushed deeply and hid behind Kili, who swung his pistol around to aim at the fool who’d spoken.

 

“Put that away,” Thorin barked - _Kili flinched at the tone and Fili’s jaw clenched_ \- “You’re more likely to hit our own with that than you are to hit them.” Thorin waited until Kili had put the weapon away before he turned back to Sharly, eyes resigned but calculating. He kept his hold on the hostile beneath him, but addressed the woman. “What do you want?”

 

The woman sauntered over to Thorin, leaning over to offer what was sure to be a very clear view of her breasts, and giggled. “Well, I can think of a few things.” He didn’t pull away from her this time, and he took a moment to look her body over before he brought his gaze up to her face again. The attention didn’t seem to bother her - her tone was the same when she spoke again. “But what I’d really like to know is what the hell you think you’re doin’?” She stood up again, stepping forward so that she was standing directly over the largest male’s head and forcing Thorin to look up to meet her eyes. “I wanna know who you are, who you’re workin’ with, an’ where the flying fuck a’ you takin’ all these shiny toys to. ”

 

Thorin looked away from Sharly for a moment to glance over the rest of the group before he pulled his gaze back to her. “And what do I get for telling you?” His eyes were still calculating, but there was more of an amused light to them now. Nori searched his memory for the last time he saw that look on Thorin’s face and promptly remembered why Hili suddenly took to drinking his coffee black. “You have a pretty face or two and a handful of muscle and you think I’ll suddenly start stumbling over my words to appease you?” Ori didn’t make any noise, but he did duck more fully behind Kili again. The brats were fighting off a smile - _probably nerves as much as anything else_ \- but the Dunlanders didn’t bother trying to hide their smirks. “These are my men, those are my supplies, and this is my mission. Now, unless your cunt grants wishes, you’re going to have a hell of a time finding something to convince me to give anything up to you.”

 

Sharly’s jaw dropped even as the corners of her mouth turned up. She turned from looking at Thorin to the younger girl behind her and then to Twitch before she looked back to Thorin again. “Well, I neva’!”

 

Thorin only raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Well, maybe you should.”

 

Sharly laughed. She laughed hard enough that it looked, for a moment, like she might back up a bit from Thorin, but her position never wavered. The younger girl, behind her, smiled even while she shifted nervously, and the young man next to her repositioned his hold on the rifle. On the far side of the narrow space, two of the hostiles drew swords and the one with a club rested the business end of it on his shoulder.

 

Nori rolled his eyes and smirked when he heard Dwalin snort to hide his own laughter.

 

After a bit, Sharly seemed to get control of herself, but Thorin was talking again before she had the chance to.

 

“You think you’re the first bunch of amateurs to try to rip us off? We’ve dealt with countless people like you. You have a bit of strength and an idea of how this business works and it never occurs to you that the water you’re swimming in goes deeper than you can even dream of.” That was a tone of voice that Nori hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was reserved specifically for folk that Thorin thought fascinating in their stupidity and Nori grinned to hear it. “Now, you think you outnumber us, and at the moment you do, but your plan is... what? Beat us up, take the goods, and find some fence to sell them to?” Sharly’s jaw clenched and her manic grin started looking more forced. Thorin shook his head the way he did when he was disappointed. “It’s a simple plan, and I can see that you’re trying to work within the... limits of your resources,” his eyes flickered to the girl and the kid with the shotgun. “But you’ll never get even half as much as I can for the same merchandise.” His eyes strayed down to her cleavage before he met her eyes again. “A nice set of tits is no substitute for a brain, sweetheart.”

 

There was a resounding crack and Thorin now sported a bright red handprint across one side of his face. From the smirk he wore, he wasn’t upset by it. “I take it you disagree?”

 

“You motha’ fuckin’, ass munchin’ gun runna’s all think you’re so much -”

 

Thorin slammed the head of the man he straddled into the pavement, found his feet, and threw the mouthy bitch into the side of the vehicle Nori was hiding behind.

 

“That was disrespectful,” Thorin’s voice was a low, arrogant drawl over the com. Not for the first time, Nori was grateful for access to modern tech - he’d never have been able to keep track of what Thorin was saying otherwise.. “I think you misunderstood, sweetheart. What I’m offering you is an opportunity.”

 

“Not too fast,” Nori pitched his voice even lower than before. “You’ve got to dangle what she wants in front of her until she begs for it.”

 

“I can show you shit you’ve never seen, take you places you’ve only heard about. This business of yours... it’s small time. You want this run? Take it. It’ll be the biggest run you have in a year and I’ll be laughing with my friends about how I lost pocket change to a nice set of tits.”

 

Nori could hear Thorin shifting, but the angle was bad for getting a visual. The Durinson brats both squirmed subtly, the pair of them pointedly looking anywhere that wasn’t their uncle. Ori’s eyes seemed fixed on his feet and he muttered something that had Kili nodding discretely.

 

Sharly’s man, no longer pinned, seemed to shake out of his shock and find his feet. In a motion that looked well practiced, a shotgun - _barrel sawn short_ \- was drawn over the man’s shoulder and aimed, centermass, at Thorin. “Sh- Shar?”

 

Whatever progress Thorin had made was undone with that single, shakingly spoken word.

 

The sound of Sharly shifting - _not struggling, not yet_ \- reached Nori’s ears and the woman started talking again. “Oh Daddy,” her voice was a bit breathless for a growl, but none of her folk reacted. “You don’t understand. We ain’t a buncha younglin’s askin’ for permission to cross the street.” Her giggle was forced. “We’re gonna take what you got an’ we’re gonna sell it for enough fuckin’ credits that you’ll fuckin’ shit bricks ‘cause WE’RE the biggest fucks in this area an’ EVERYONE knows it! After we’re done peddlin’ your shit ‘merchandise’, this nice set of tits is gonna drag your sorry asses back to camp an’ if you’re dick’s big enough an’ you fuck real good, I might keep you ‘round ‘til it falls off.” Nori saw her shift so that she was even closer to Thorin, speaking directly into his ear. “You’ll be beggin’ me to slit your throat long before that happens, though. I tend to be a little... rough with my toys, so I ain’t expectin’ you to last ‘til the end of the week. To keep my beau from gettin’ bored, I’ll let him fuck Juni’a over there an’ -”

 

Thorin’s hands moved - _one to the woman’s throat, the other to her hair_ \- and he slammed her into the side of the vehicle again.

 

“You’re being disrespectful again,” his words were a deadly growl, but the hand in her hair loosened and Thorin used it to stroke her face. “There’s venom in your words, in your actions - there’s no need for that sort of hostility between us, is there?” His words became a soothing rumble. “I imagine it’s quite stressful, working out of a place like this. You’ve got the local market, who wouldn’t know the ass end of a gun from the business end of it, and then you’ve got all the transients, and who knows what sort of shit they’re bringing in on any given day. It would be a taxing area to manage for anyone, let alone a clever girl trying to keep the family business afloat.” His head dipped lower, nuzzling her neck. “Now if your crew’s itching for a fight, my men will be happy to oblige, and if it’s hard and rough you’re wanting for yourself, I’d be happy to let you try to fuck my dick off, but tell me, sweetheart, - when was the last time someone left you satisfied and aching, hmm?”

 

Sharly didn’t answer right away and she didn’t move as far as Nori could see, but her man tensed up and wore the beginnings of a snarl. That he didn’t say anything or move any further was a promising thing.

 

“Smooth, Don Juan, very smooth. Now, why don’t you ever talk that pretty to me?” Nori grinned as he spoke, even while his eyes swept through the lot and his ears strained to ensure that there wasn’t anyone else on the way to join their party.

 

When she did move, it was to raise her hands up, sliding her fingertips across his face and then through his hair, until her hands rested over his ears. Nori felt a flicker of concern that she’d caught sight of Thorin’s com piece, but relaxed when she didn’t react any further. Thorin’s com was the most advanced little piece of tech on the market, and was small enough that no one was going to notice it unless they knew what they were looking for. The company only had five of that particular model at the moment, but Nori was beyond grateful that Thorin was wearing one of them.

 

Sharly used the grip she had on Thorin’s ears and pulled him into a wet, lewd kiss. Thorin didn’t give any indication of resistance and Nori made a note to pick up some industrial strength mouthwash. The kiss hadn’t been going on for more than 20 seconds before Sharly took her first step forward and forced Thorin to take a step backward. It was halfway through the second step they were both taking that Nori realized what Sharly had in mind and it was too late for any sort of warning.

 

By the time they’d both completed that second step, Sharly’s man took a step forward and, in a move that held more grace than Nori thought the Dunlander capable of, he slid his left arm around Thorin’s neck without breaking Sharly’s kiss and wedged the mouth of the shotgun against Thorin’s ribs with his free hand. Thorin’s posture stiffened right as the muscles of the hostile’s arm flexed and Sharly broke the kiss with a vulgar sound.

 

The position the three of them were in, there was no way the brats had a visual on Thorin and Dwalin wasn’t able to spare any of his attention. Nori wanted to cuss.

 

Sharly laughed, a light hearted sound, but never released her hold on Thorin’s ears. “Now, I have met all manna’ of smooth talka’s and snake oil salesmen, but you, Daddy, have about the cleverest tongue of anyone I’ve eva’ met!” Her body language broadcasted confidence and arousal. “You’re talkin’ some mighty tall words, there, Daddy, ‘bout bein’ able to sell this trash for so much mo’ than me and my boys could. Where d’you do business, then, that they’d give a scoundrel like you such a shiny cut?”

 

Nori hurried to speak in the silence. “I”m not one to judge you on what you occupy your free time with, Sunray, but maybe you’ll take your threesome somewhere where the young ones won’t have to watch? They’re a bit young yet to be traumatized in that particular fashion.”

 

Fili stiffened minutely - _the girl he was distracting hadn’t picked up on it yet_ \- and Kili flinched again behind him. Ori’s face didn’t show anything new, but Kili was going to have some bruising on his shoulders, if Ori’s white knuckles were anything to go by. Nori made a note to tease the both of them mercilessly about that. Dwalin, true to form, didn’t give any outward sign that he’d heard anything.

 

Thorin held still. The look in his eyes was annoyed and calculating, but the mischievous glint he’d been wearing had yet to fade. “Well, sweetheart, since you’re asking so nicely.” He paused and let a slow smile curl his lips. “Helm’s Deep.”

 

The words worked to shock the whole group of hostiles into silence. Even the girl that was running her hands through Fili’s hair froze and turned to gape at Thorin.

 

The older, scrawny man - _Sharly’d called him Twitch_ \- pulled himself together first, snarling and cussing, even as his grip remained gentle and firm on the jar of nitro.

 

Sharly was only a step behind him, though, and her gaze moved between Thorin and Twitch with narrowed eyes. “What? Goddamnit, old man, what’re you goin’ on about now?”

 

Twitch looked to be some odd combination of frustrated and pleased, but the smile he gave Sharly was missing a number of teeth when he answered her. “Pretty boy’s prob’ly tellin’ the truth. Them Rohan cunts are picky ‘bout who they deal with, but they get plenty gen’rous once they get fond of ya face.” He snorted and spat on the ground. “If he’s speakin’ true about sellin’ to the horse-fuckers, then he’s been bein’ honest about how much he ‘spects to rake in.”

 

Sharly suddenly only had eyes for Thorin. The look she wore now was cousin to the look any number of women had worn when they recognized the title Thorin held before the fall of Erebor. “You sure ‘bout that, Twitch. It’s not like this man ain’t got any limit to the numba of pretty words that he can string togetha’ fo’ us.”

 

“Them Rohan cunts ain’t ‘sactly advertising what they want over the longwave, now, is they?” The old man shook his head and snorted again. “Nah, if a body’s gonna know about how to deal with the horse-fuckers, it means they’re likely running for ‘em.” He shifted, taking another step closer to the threesome, but still careful to remain out of reach. “Pretty boy has enough gear out here to wage a small war, an’ if this’s shit he’s willin’ to leave to the mercy a’ fools like us, then I wanna know what he’s got tucked away safe ‘n’ sound.”

 

Sharly laughed and released her hold on Thorin to brace her hands on her hips. Twitch was grinning, as well, but the rest of the Dulanders didn’t so much as smirk.

 

“There any chance they’d buy from us, if we showed up with it instead.”

 

Sharly faced Thorin as she spoke - _the bastard was doing a good  job of looking smug and relaxed, despite his current circumstances_ \- but it was Twitch who answered her.

 

“Nah. It was Pretty boy an’ his folk set up the deal, it’s Pretty boy an’ his folk’ll be the only ones they’ll work with. ‘Sides, they pick us out for who we are an’ they’re likely to blow us an’ the ‘munitions up together.”

 

Sharly stepped up into Thorin’s space again and ran her hands over his chest. “Hmmm, this is a conundrum, ain’t it? You ain’t gonna be breathin’ ‘less I keep my beau from fillin’ your lungs full ‘a lead an’ I ain’t gonna get that pretty pay out ‘less you stay alive long enough to get the money.” She moved close enough that she had to be pressing Thorin’s body between hers and the hostile behind him. “I guess we’re just stuck togetha’ fo’ now.”

 

Nori shifted. It shouldn’t be taking Dori this long to get the rooms ready. “Prophet, how’s the stage looking? Actors are almost ready.”

 

“It does look like it, doesn’t it?” Thorin’s voice was all amusement and condescension. “Well, how about this? You get your beau to quit humping my ass and we’ll all go up to my rooms. My kids can play a round or two of cards with yours and you and I can ... _negotiate_ the terms of our agreement in a more private setting.” He trailed his eyes up and down Sharly’s form and his smirk became more predatory. “I’ll even let your man watch me ruin you.”

 

The hostiles as a whole seemed to relax at that and the tension on both sides lightened.

 

“Prophet,” Nori risked hissing into the com. “Can you pry your head out of your ass for -”

 

“It’s ready!” Dori’s voice snapped from the other side of the com. “Second floor, rooms five and six. They’ll be at the end of the corridor, across from each other, and the hall will be cleared of all civilians. There’s a fire escape leading to the window of room five and a welcoming party waiting in room six. The stage is set.”

 

Nori snickered. He and Dori had played at this farce long enough for him to tell when Dori was actually annoyed with him and when it was only a ruse. It was was good to know that he still knew the right buttons to press to set his older brother off. “Thank you, Prophet, very well done.”

 

Sharly had taken to locking her lips with Thorin’s again - _the poor bastard_ \- but she pulled off him after a moment or two more. “Well! Lead the way, then, suga’!”

 

The group started to head back around to the front of the building, but Nori lingered. Thorin went first, after the hostile released him, and Sharly and her beau flanked him as he walked. Two of her men walked behind them, with Dwalin and the brats behind them, then the other two men and the girl. Twitch seemed happy to bring up the rear - _not a bad position, assuming the enemy didn’t have anyone hidden_ \- but he was still handling the bottle of nitro as carefully as ever.

 

Nori followed behind, pulling a sap free even as he kept his steps silent, and just as the rest of the group turned the corner out of sight, he brought the sap down hard on the Dunlander’s head with one hand and plucked the jar of explosive liquid from the air with the other.

 

Less worried about remaining silent, now, Nori dragged the unconscious man behind the nearest trash bin and sprinted back to the truck to tuck the bottle of nitro - _very gently_ \- into a safe, hidden place. He then sprinted around the side of the building, counting out the windows - _Dori never was good about keeping track of how many fire escapes a building had, it was a good thing Nori knew this place as well as he did_ \- and he climbed the ladder as fast as he could.

 

He slipped in the unlocked window - _multiple voices approaching, room currently unoccupied_ \- and tucked himself behind the bathroom door just a heartbeat before the door to the rest of the room was opened. Sharly was laughing again - _the bitch would probably laugh as her throat was slit_ \- at something Thorin said, even as her beau entered the room first, followed by her, and then Thorin. Her laughter died off just as Thorin stepped in the door.

 

“Oh, suga’ - is that so?”

 

Nori allowed himself a moment - _just one moment_ \- and the most creative cuss that his mind could come up with before he slipped out from his hiding spot as quickly as he could. He didn’t have to be able to see where everyone was to know what would come next. As fast as he could, he was behind Beau with two knives drawn. He had to stretch up a bit to reach - _no more than when he practiced with Dwalin, though_ \- but a razor sharp edge in front of the man’s throat and another at the back of his neck encouraged the idiot to remain still.

 

“Not a word,” he hissed.

 

Thorin, in the meantime, shoved the door shut and gripped Sharly about the neck. He slammed her up against the doorframe with one hand, threw his other fist into the wall beside her head, and growled low as bits of plaster fell to the floor.

 

“Shut up.” The words came out choked and raw.

 

The woman’s eyes widened before they narrowed - _the lights in the hall had too bright for her eyes to have adjusted just yet_ \- but she seemed more interested in provoking Thorin than in getting free. “What happened, Daddy? Everythin’ was fine before I said... ‘is that so.’ Is that what’s got you so worked up, Daddy?” Her voice was curious, rather than malicious. At that moment, in the dim light, Sharly had a softness to her face and Nori wondered who she’d been before she’d turned into the cunt they were fighting with tonight. “That sure is a funny phrase to get all twisted up over.”

 

Thorin made an indignant, inarticulate sound and pushed her into the doorframe again. He raised his hand as if to strike her, then clenched his fist and fumbled in his pocket. Sharly laughed again - _the softness was gone, the laughter was derisive_ \-  but was cut short by the sound of a discharging taser and she slumped in Thorin’s grip. Her beau gave a lurch in her direction, but brought himself up short when he realized just how sharp Nori’s blades were. He settled on growling instead, but the effect was rather less than intimidating with Nori snickering behind him.

 

“That’s you all over, isn’t it?” He called out to Thorin, keeping his voice soft. “You and your _electric_ personality, overwhelming the lady folk.”

 

Thorin dropped the woman to the ground without care and turned to where Nori had the brute trapped. “ _That_ is _not_ a lady.” He did take the time to nudge her onto her side - _ever the gentleman_ \- before he approached. “Well, fuck.”

 

Nori leered. “Didn’t think he was your type, but I won’t be the one to stand in the way of young love.”

 

“Not that, you sod!” Thorin was smiling as he spoke, but the expression was sharper than he usually wore it. “The bloody taser’s run out of juice.”

 

The ‘on’ light was lit a happy green and Nori had just enough time to exchange a vicious grin with Thorin before he spun away, pulling his daggers free so that Thorin’s fist could connect with Beau’s face properly. Nori took a moment to watch his friend - _brother, leader, king_ \- wail on the bigger man, before he made his way over to Sharly. It was good that the brute was used to taking a beating, Thorin wouldn’t have to hold back.

 

The woman was starting to stir - _she’d been tased before, unsurprising_ \- and it wouldn’t do to have her up and about. He found a length of nylon rope in one of his several pockets and took his time hog-tying her, keeping an ear on Thorin’s progress while he tied her bindings tighter than was necessary. He even had enough time to go into the bathroom, find a wash cloth, and return to her side before she reoriented herself.

 

“Oh, you pig-fuckin’ pissant!” Sharly’s eyes were wild as she shrieked. “I betcha get a fuckin’ kick outta this, doncha? I betcha get the biggest fuckin’ boner, tying up pretty little girls an’ -”

 

The washcloth cut off the rest of her drivel and another length of rope held the cloth in place.

 

“There now, much better.” He offered her a smile full of too many teeth and glanced back at Thorin - _that was going to bruise horribly_ \- before deciding he had enough time to finish securing the bitch.

 

Sharly was struggling against her bonds - _glaring at him and cursing through her gag_ \- and had already started on making her wrists and ankles raw. Nori calmly flicked out his pocket knife and cut most of her outer clothing away, before he peeled her shoes off her feet. Satisfied that she didn’t have anything overly helpful at hand to free herself with, he returned his attentions back to Thorin.

 

Thorin was faster and had better technique, but the hostile moved with the sort of ease that came from a lifetime spent fighting for survival. The man knew how to take a hit and, when he returned the favor, hit hard enough that Nori could feel it from across the room.

 

“He’s favoring his left leg,” Nori called out, moving to lean against the wall. “The injury’s in his thigh or his hip.” He scanned the room, sparing an extra second for the window he’d crawled through earlier, before watching Thorin follow through with the uppercut he’d already started when Nori had opened his mouth. “No, no - hip. It’s a little lower down, where the leg meets the body.” He paused, watching Thorin dance out of reach and then step in to take advantage of an opening in the hostile’s defenses. “That’s the area, but it’s the left side you want to aim for. No, the left side. Your other left, Sunray.” Thorin finally found the opportunity to throw a kick at the man’s left hip. He followed it up with a right hook that left Nori’s jaw aching in sympathy and the man dropped to the floor. “There you are! Well done!”

 

Nori clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and offered his most charming smile. Thorin glared as he caught his breath. He started to offer a rude hand gesture, but his hands were stiff and sore enough that they weren’t cooperating and Nori didn’t bother hiding his laughter.

 

“Fuck you, Napalm.” Thorin sat himself on the side of the bed with a grimace and a sullen look, but there was no real heat to his words. “Bring the rope over and see to this one, too.”

 

Nori snorted, but did as he was asked. He bound the man up as tightly as he bound up the woman, and then turned to Thorin, who was examining his knuckles in the low light the window afforded.

 

“It’s rather quiet across the way,” Nori kept his tone contemplative. “One of us should probably check on the others, make sure nothing got out of hand.”

 

Thorin’s eyes shot up to meet Nori’s and he frowned.

 

“You’ve done a number on your hands, as well. You should have Starlight look them over after you’ve finished making sure the others are all fine. I’ll just stay and keep -”

 

“No.” Thorin’s voice quiet but firm. He stood and closed the distance between the two of them, searching Nori’s face for something. Nori could’ve saved him the trouble and informed him that he’d sleep better with these two - _and their friends_ \- gone from this world, but Thorin didn’t ask and so Nori didn’t say. “Not yet.”

 

Nori snorted again and shook his head.

 

“We’ll have to, I know that,” Thorin nodded. “But not yet. Not until we must.”

 

Nori tilted his head to one side and looked Thorin over again. He looked tired. Thorin wasn’t as prone to violence as he and Dwalin were. He wasn’t regretting what they did to the pair, not yet, but he would carry the weights of their deaths on his conscious if Nori followed through on what instinct and habit had taught him was best.

 

“This will bite us.” Nori kept his tone conversational, but let the harsh truth of the situation show in his eyes. “This snake will bite us in the soft bits if we don’t cut the head, right here, right now.”

 

Thorin nodded. “I know. It might.” Nori snorted again. “It might not, though. We have a long way to travel and our hands will be stained enough as we go along. I’d rather not leave a trail of blood for our enemies to follow.”

 

“And what about leaving tongues free to tell the tale, instead?” Nori ran his hands over his face and allowed himself a sigh. “I fill a very specific role, Sunray, and I’m very thorough in my work. I know how you feel about this, but it’s not something I’d suggest unless I thought it was necessary.”

 

Thorin pressed his lips together and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He met Nori’s eyes again - _the muscles along his jaw clenched_ \- before he turned and crossed the room. The silence stretched - _broken only by the woman’s occasional muffled curses_ \- but Nori did nothing to rush the decision.

 

“No.” The word was hoarse. Thorin cleared his throat and the rest came more clearly. “Not this time. They’re undisciplined and disorganized - they were only a threat due to happenstance.”

 

Nori closed his eyes. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ these people would get retribution, if left alive, only when and even the smallest, most docile of creatures could affect the fate of all of Middle Earth under the right circumstances. But Thorin’s heart was soft - _always had been, even now after it had toughened up so much_ \- and if it were any other person, he’d have smiled and nodded, before returning to slit their throats later that evening. He settled for a sigh and a nod. “Fine, but I follow you protesting.”

 

The relief on Thorin’s face might’ve been worth the worry he and Dori would be dealing with later.

 

“One stipulation, though.” Thorin’s face became guarded again. “I won’t end them, but give me five minutes alone with them.” Thorin hesitated, and Nori rushed to speak again. “Please?”

 

Please was not a word that Nori was fond of and he didn’t use it often. Thorin knew this. “Not more than five minutes, and nothing that would give them cause to seek us out again.”

 

Nori grinned. “I won’t be long.”

 

He waited until the door clicked shut before he turned back to Sharly, who had been paying close attention to their conversation. He gave her a wink and moved to her brute first, peeling off his shoes and socks before taking his time in selecting his sharpest knife. Two quick motions and the achilles tendons of both the man’s feet were severed. It was an easy enough injury to repair, if you had the money and knew a medic skilled enough. Certainly nonlethal, especially when the blade was as thin as Nori’s was, and he kept his weapons clean enough that the chance for infection was marginal at best. He’d been a bit concerned that the man would wake and begin hollering, but he remained unconscious.

 

Nori turned to the woman then, who resumed cussing as soon as he took his first step toward her. Nori could only grin as he pinned her down and took the same blade to her heels as well. She squawked and shrieked as he made the cuts, but the gag dampened the noise nicely.

 

He maneuvered so that he could see her face again, and so that she could see his, and he spent a moment etching her face into his memory. “I would tell you to take advantage of this mercy that you’ve been given and to forget everything you’ve seen and heard tonight, but you don’t have the intelligence to do that. So, instead, I’ll tell you that the next time I see you, I will kill you. And if you’ve threatened or - Valar forbid - harmed my kin between this time and next, I will not kill you, not for a long, long time.”

 

Nori moved quickly, then, and the rope holding the gag in place was cut free, the gag was removed and one of Nori’s favorite toys was shoved in the whore’s mouth before she could so much as peep.

 

“That is a grenade.” He reached for the pin and pulled it free, holding the small bit of metal before her eyes. “This is the pin that used to keep the grenade from exploding.” He tossed it to the other side of the room. “Feel free to spit it out when your jaw gets tired.”

 

He gave her another vicious grin and made his way to the door. It was a tricky thing to get ahold of a fake grenade as realistic as that one - _it had taken a few favors and cost a pretty coin_ \- but it was worth the trouble if it would keep the bitch from trying anything too adventurous before they left in the morning.

 

Thorin was waiting in the hall, arms crossed and leaning against the near wall. He arched an eyebrow - _the same regal ‘i’m barely tolerating your bullshit’ expression he had perfected when they were all still enlisted men_ \- and cleared his throat.

 

Nori straightened and managed an indignant look in return. The innocent look had stopped being even vaguely effective while they were still enlisted together. _Dud grenade. My favorite._ He signed, before he managed a scowl of a pout. _Only one I brought. Need to get another._

 

Thorin chuckled and shook his head. “If we can’t replace it before we get there, then I’ll buy you a dozen of them myself when our work is done.”

 

Nori sighed his put upon sigh and nodded. “I suppose that’ll do. Now let’s see what fun the lads have had without us.”

 

Nori opened the door to the next room and signed one handed as he waived his leader to enter first. _Beauty before intelligence, your majesty._

 

Thorin snorted. _And don’t you forget it_ , his hands moved and if his face was set in his ‘irritated noble’ mask, then at least his eyes still glinted with mirth.

 

“And when they ask you who fattened your lip, you can tell them it was the runt who couldn’t keep quiet to save his life!” That was Ori’s voice crowing as he and Thorin walked in.

 

“Pronto!” Nori barked out his brother’s title almost as if it were a curse, just the way Dori bit his out when they were antagonizing each other. Ori froze and hunched his shoulders as he turned to face the middle Lorison. The brats on either side of him wore an interesting combination of caution and protection on their faces and Dori, across the room, narrowed his eyes. Nori strode past Thorin to stand before his younger brother, folding his arms and tilting his head so as to mimic the stern stance his older brother was so fond of. “I won’t have any brother of mine speaking so.” He paused. “It’s bad manners to mock those weaker than us.”

 

The brats whooped and Dori scoffed - _but he couldn’t hide the laughter in his eyes, not from Nori_ \- while Bofur and Gloin had a laugh. Bifur just shook his head and accepted more rope from Balin, who rolled his eyes with an indulgent smile.

 

Thorin moved to speak with Dwalin and Balin while Nori herded the three youngest members of the company to one side. Bofur and Gloin - _with a subtle few hand signals encouraging them_ \- moved to recruit Dori in moving the hostiles - _all unconscious, bound, and gagged, none of the damage looked permanent_ \- to the corners of the room. A few more hand signals and Nori and Dwalin had exchanged the bare facts of what had transpired at either end, not that the brats didn’t give him a splendid retelling. He cuffed and knocked them about as they told their version, and all three of them beamed, half-heartedly dodging the affectionate blows even as they spoke over each other.

 

Thorin finished speaking with Balin and Dwalin and Dis’s sons - _ever aware of their uncle’s moods_ \- moved to speak to him. Dori looked as if he was finishing up his task, which meant he didn’t have much time with Ori.

 

Nori yanked his younger brother closer and patted him down briefly, speaking softly as he seemingly checked for injuries. “Are you well?”

 

Ori gave a bit of a smile, but his eyes were a touch glassy and there was a faint tremor in his hands. “Never better,” - _Nori cringed to hear the same words he’d used so often to push Ori’s worries aside, but only on the inside_ \- “It took forever ever to get up here, but then it was over faster than I’d thought it would be.” He licked his lips and laughed a little - _twenty one, Ori only had twenty one years under his belt, had Nori been half as young at that age? how could they have allowed him to come along?_ \- before he nodded. "What about you and Th- you and Sunray Major? Are you two okay?"

 

Nori stopped his search for injuries and slid his hand across the back of his little brother's neck. He pulled Ori closer and thumped their foreheads together. “Nothing to brag on. Major scuffed up his knuckles a bit and might be sporting a new bruise or two, but I didn’t even get a scratch.” Ori’s eyes moved over Nori like he was searching for injuries, so Nori took a step back and held out his arms in invitation. “Don’t believe me?”

 

Ori blinked in surprise before he grinned even as he shook his head. “Nah, never.”

 

Nori laughed and brought his younger brother back in for a hug. Ori latched on immediately, always enthusiastic for any signs of physical affection Nori was able to give. If he didn’t know better - _having survived Dori’s overbearing version of mothering himself_ \- he’d think Ori touch-starved.

 

Movement of something approaching caught his eye - _too soon, couldn’t he have just a few minutes more?_ \- but turned out to be Dori, and Nori pulled away from his younger brother for the second time. He ruffled Ori’s hair with a rueful smile before he stepped away and turned to meet Dori’s “glare” head on.

 

Dori narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips firmly together. A quick glance at Ori softened his look, and, although it appeared forced, Dori’s expression was not as severe when he glanced back at Nori in the next moment. _Have the threats been removed?_

 

Nori would never admit it out loud - _too many eyes, too many ears, nowhere ever safe enough to relax completely_ \- but of all the different ways he’d learned to communicate over the past two decades or so, his favorite way - _most challenging, most concise, most natural_ \- was the system he had with Dori. As subtle as the rest of the company could communicate, only Dis’s sons came close to what he and Dori shared and, given a decade or two, even that could change.

 

Nori arched an eyebrow and snorted, allowing a cocky smile to start to form before he, too, glanced at Ori - _tensed in a different way, now, worried his brothers will bicker again_ \- and banished it. His gaze flickered across the room to where Thorin was before he looked at his older brother again. _No, against my will. Thorin’s orders._

 

Dori gave an offended sniff and looked him up and down. _Are you injured?_

 

Nori started to roll his eyes clockwise, but stopped himself and scanned the room instead. He shared a nod with Gloin as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together, then he let his gaze linger on Thorin as he sighed. _No injuries. Thorin knows about the nitro now._

 

Dori looked up at the ceiling, with an expression of long suffering before he, too looked over at Thorin. He looked back to Nori, meeting his eyes again with a small smile - _not so forced, a bit more natural_ \- on his lips. _I’ll handle him. Go - do what you do. I’ll watch over the youngest._

 

Nori grinned now - _less of a sharks grin than he’d normally use for “public’ interactions with Dori, but it was worth it to see the relief on his little brother’s face_ \- and he ruffled Ori’s hair again, clapped Dori on the shoulder, and wandered over closer to Thorin.

 

“No, no - I’m damaged beyond repair!” Nori paused. He might’ve reacted more strongly if Kili - _safe, sound, whole_ \- hadn’t been within sight. “Does Overlord have any bleach?” Fili made a choked sound and turned from clasping Thorin’s arm to hiding his face in his younger brother’s shoulder. His shoulders trembled - _laughter_ \- and he shook his head. “I’ll need to bleach out my eyes,” Kili paused - _Fili must’ve chimed in_ \- for a moment before continuing on. “And my ears! I’ll need to bleach out my ears, as well, or I’ll not survive another day. Not with the echoes of my lascivious uncle’s words repeating endlessly in my head.”

 

Thorin raised a single, unamused eyebrow. “Oh? Have your fragile, underdeveloped psyches been overstrained?”

 

“I can’t decide which is worse,” Kili clung to his brother with one hand - _a tactical move, the brat was on the verge of laughter and clinging to his brother helped him keep his voice even_ \- and flung his other arm over his eyes. “The cunt that might or might not grant wishes or the threat of her fucking your dick off! AND YOU AGREEING TO IT!”

 

“No, no,” Fili gasped, pulling free from Kili long enough to level a look at Thorin that rested somewhere between mirthful and accusing. “No, it was ‘I’ll let your man watch me ruin you.’”

 

“I mean, does _Mum_ know you talk like that?” Kili managed to keep his words coherent, while Fili dissolved back into a trembling mess laughter again.

 

“Now, boys.” Thorin didn’t quite growl, but only by the barest of margins. The brats were good enough sports that they tried to snap to attention, but the fear that glinted in Thorin’s gaze was the sort only ever inspired by Dis’ wrath and the lads were clever enough to recognize his blustering for what it was. “A mission is a wild, chaotic, ... unpredictable thing. You can plan and prepare all you like, but at the end of the day you work with what the Valar have given you.” He paused again and met the eyes of his nephews, and if the increase in their shaking was any indication, the mirth that lingered at the corners of Thorin’s eyes had not gone un-noticed. “And if the Valar have any mercy at all, for any of us, then your mother will never hear tell of the things that occurred here today.”

 

Kili made a strangled noise and stumbled back - _throwing Fili off balance_ \- directly into Nori, who gave the pair of them the full effects of his sharks-grin. Kili and Fili both gulped - _more for show than any real fear_ \- and stumbled away again, nodding affirmatives and muttering about finding themselves a drink to “dull the trauma of battle”.

 

Thorin ran a hand over his face and shared an eye roll with Nori. Nori let out a quiet laugh and scanned the rest of the room. Dori was ushering Ori out of the room behind the brats and Gloin and Bifur seemed to be comparing the knots they favored for securing hostiles. Balin and Bofur were making for the door as well - _Balin wore his ‘vaguely disappointed’ face and Bofur was rubbing his hands together almost compulsively, Balin must be grilling him about where the nitro came from_ \- while Dwalin hovered near enough to it to show that he was waiting for presence of his friends before he left. Which only left Oin.

 

Oin was closer - _much closer_ \- than Nori had expected him to be, but it was easy to forget that the old healer still retained, on occasion, enough stealth to get the drop on him. Nori tolerated the older man’s antics with as much grace as he could, as it kept him - _in Dori’s words_ \- “humble and on his toes”. Oin had yet to attract Thorin’s attention - _even with as observant as the King in Exile usually was_ \- and signed several harsh words demanding Nori keep his silence. There was no question that Thorin was the worst in the company when it came to having his wounds tended to, so Nori acquiesced with the slightest of nods.

 

Thorin caught the movement and frowned. “Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, he’ll keep from tellin’ ye that I’m sneakin’ up on ye, _again_ , s’I can get a glimpse at yer hands _before_ the infection sets in.” Oin growled, grabbing their leader by the shoulder with one hand even as he blocked the reactive punch that Thorin threw with his other. Oin shifted his grip to one of Thorin’s wrists and then the other, examining the younger man’s knuckles, and made a displeased sound. “Just look at this. Ye know better than t’ go wallopin’ on someone without wrapping yer hands first.”

 

Thorin “Oakenshield” Durinson absolutely did not whine. He also did not shoot Nori a look of absolute betrayal. “There wasn’t time.”

 

The old healer snorted. “Like hell, there wasn’t.” He kept a firm grip on Thorin’s wrist with one hand while he searched the pockets of his jacket with the other. Salve and bandages were produced quickly enough and Oin wasted no time in seeing to his work. “Napalm was in the room with ye the whole time - I know it because it’d be more than just m’self he’d be answering t’ if he left ye with an enemy on yer own. Ye had enough time t’ spare a few seconds protectin’ yer hands.”

 

Thorin grumbled out some choice cusses, but submitted to having his hands tended to. And if the sidelong looks he shot Nori - _and Dwalin, when the big oaf couldn’t keep his snickering to himself_ \- were sullen, then Nori was polite enough not to mention it.

 

“Between the lot of you upstarts and the vultures we’ll have to pick off along the way, this mission is going to drive me to drinking.” He muttered, flexing his hands to test the tightness of the bandages even as Oin made his way out of the room.

 

“Th’ sufferin’ o’ royalty,” Dwalin rumbled, leaning against the doorframe, as the door closed behind Oin. “Ye want a sucker fer yer troubles, yer ‘ighness?

 

Thorin narrowed his eyes and tilted his chin up just slightly. It was a regal stance, utterly ruined by the indignant sulk that overtook his expression. “Yes.”

 

Dwalin straightened and began patting his pockets. “O’ course, yer ‘ighness, o’ course. We ‘ave strawberry, lemon, or ye could suck on these!” The larger man wore a cocky smirk on his face as he brought his hands forward, flipping off their esteemed leader twice over.

 

Thorin broke out in a grin. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll leave the sucking of any part of you to this one,” he motioned to Nori, who he then rounded on. “And you! Why, in the name of the Valar eternal, did you have to choose Eryn Vorn?!”

 

Nori danced out of reach - _more than familiar with length of Thorin’s reach and the speed of his reflexes_ \- and offered him a dazzling smile. “Well, I saw you straddling that great ugly oaf and I couldn’t help but recall the time you confided in me that you hoped to have a threesome at some point in your life.”

 

Thorin flushed and made a strangled noise. “I was only trying to be supportive of Gyda’s curiosity and- and-” His gaze darted to Dwalin, who crossed his arms - _to better hide his laughter_ \- and narrowed his eyes. “And I was drunk when I said that. Very drunk. I barely remember saying that.”

 

Dwalin snorted. “Never would’ve ‘appened, Oakenshield.” Nori blinked and resisted the urge to throw something heavy at Dwalin’s thick skull. “Ye spent yer last drop o’ luck catching th’ eye o’ my little sister - there wouldn’t ‘ave been enough left t’ find a second lass t’ stand yer ugly mug long enough t’ tumble with he, prince or not!”

 

“Shame on you, highness,” Nori shook his head with mock disappointment. “Next you’ll be trying to tell that it was Gyda who taught you to talk so filthy!”

 

Thorin looked affronted. “Of course not! Gyda’s manners have always been impeccable! She knows enough not to talk with her mouth full, at any rate.” He leered at Dwalin as he said the last bit and barked out a laugh when Dwalin lunged after him.

 

Nori watched as Dwalin wrestled Thorin into a chokehold. He couldn’t believe that Dwalin had dropped his guard so low that he used a personal designation - _no matter that it was only a title_ \- in front of hostiles that may or may not still be conscious to remember it. He picked his way through the prisoners as his friends continued to rough house - _making a mental note to tease the old man about his slip in memory later -_ and took note of how many were actually unconscious and how many were alert enough to require a more permanent solution - _Thorin’s good intentions aside_ \- later in the evening.

 

The two hooligans came to a rest, both of them panting and laughing, and Thorin shook his head. “I think I’d best get myself downstairs and see what sort of drinks my idiot nephews are climbing into.”

 

“Speaking of drinks.” Thorin turned to Nori, arching that single brow again. “What do you say to sharing a pint or two with your favorite grunts, oh fearless leader? First round’s on me.”

 

Thorin’s grin brightened and he nodded. “Aye, that’d be nice. I’ll drink mine, though, rather than have you wear it, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Nori winced, even has Dwalin chuckled. “That was horrible.”

 

Thorin sniffed indignantly. “I’m your leader, all my jokes are funny.”

 

Nori gave the man a pitying look and shook his head.

 

Dwalin opened the door, not bothering to hide his signing to Nori as he did. _Our leader has gone mad._

 

Nori snorted and grinned at the taller man as he passed through the doorway. _Has gone? He’s always been this way._

 

Thorin’s face morphed into a faux scowl. “Mutinous dogs,” he muttered, passing them both.

 

Dwalin’s booming laughter was a pleasing thing to hear as they went down the stairs.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Nori didn’t bother to take the time to tap out a code before he picked the lock and slid inside the room. He stopped as soon as he felt the cool kiss of a blade against the skin of his throat and remained still as the door was shut quietly behind him. The room was dark - _not a drop of light entered the room from any crack or crevice_ \- and he strained his ears, but could only pick up on the sound of one other person’s breathing.

 

“Did I catch you at a bad time or are you still mad about your teas?” He wondered if speaking might cause the blade to break his skin, but the pressure eased by his third word.

 

There was a scoffing sound, followed by a metallic click and a soft yellow light filled the room.

 

“I thought about slitting your throat for that, you know.” Dori gave him a reproachful look, but pulled his blade away. “That was five pounds of perfectly aged Pu’er that you ‘sacrificed’, as well as a number of other blends that were just as delectable.”

 

The Lorisons were descended from a long line of folk known to appreciate the finer things in life. Due to the nature of the family business, and the inevitable pressure and unpleasantness such work brought, each member of the family was encouraged, from an early age, to choose an indulgence to pursue. Never to excess, of course, and nothing that would bring outside attention to the family, but having a hobby or two to look forward to at the end of a hard day was a healthy outlet for the stresses that their life brought upon them. Nori had chosen the piano, initially, but Dori had always insisted that tea had chosen him.

 

Tea had never been anything more than flavored water to Nori, but Dori swore that his refined blends produced intricate, delicate flavors that defied description. He could spend hours at a time in his tea room, perfecting the ratios to get the flavors exactly right, and, no matter how long it took to find what it was he wanted, he was always calm and peaceful when he emerged. He didn’t limit himself to the local stuff, either - he spent a fair bit of coin to collect rare and exotic teas from every corner of Middle Earth and wasn’t afraid to throw the family power around to get what he wanted. Dori learned about where his precious leaves were grown, monitored the weather and the crop reports, and, on occasion, influenced things so that locals in the area got help if it looked like unfortunately events might negatively impact the year’s crops. Even if Nori couldn’t appreciate the flavor of the stuff, he recognized very early on that tea was Dori’s passion.

 

When Erebor fell, the status and connections that the Lorisons had grown up with disappeared, as did the extensive collection that Dori had spend years acquiring and any sources he might have tapped to get more. All of Erebor’s refugees suffered - _no matter their social status_ \- but Dori had mourned the loss of his teas almost as strongly as he would mourn their mother later, and Nori was half convinced that, given the opportunity, his older brother might give up every small comfort they had earned along the long path to District Ered Luin if only to have access to his old collection of teas again, even if just for one day.

 

That being said, the elder two Lorisons were anything but lazy and, using talents that had been drilled into them from their first memories, they found the methods and the means to indulge in their hobbies in small ways, whenever possible. Dori might never have a collection the size and quality of what he once possessed, but some was better than none and he managed to find a few flavors that met his standards and would keep well in their new, uncertain life.

 

The Valar must not have approved of Dori’s new collection, though - _or so Nori had decided in the privacy of his own head_ \- because six years ago - _possibly seven_ \- a good portion of it was indeed sacrificed again. Nori had had the fortunate timing to be in town at about the same time as an old enemy of Dori’s executed a plan that would’ve killed Ori and ruined Dori beyond anyone’s saving. It was not a time that Nori cared to think of often, and while more than half of Dori’s new stash of teas was burnt to ashes, both of Nori’s brothers were safe and whole and Nori couldn’t bring himself to care about the lost tea - even if Dori had threatened to beat him soundly for it.

 

Nori knew that his older brother wouldn’t really kill him over his part in the loss of his cherished teas - _they were both too grateful that little Ori had escaped without harm_ \- but they were both so accustomed to insulting and sniping at each other in public as soon as any vulnerability was shown - _and hadn’t that been a painful habit to learn?_ \- that it became second nature to do it in the few moments they had to be themselves around each other, as well. There was also the reality that while Dori loved him and would never value anything over Nori’s life - _he knew this with the surety that he had known that Dori wouldn’t let the blade cut his throat just moments before_ \- his collections of rare teas was one of those those things that might challenge that theory.

 

“I’m still not entirely convinced that I shouldn’t run you through on principle.” Dori huffed, but tucked the blade away. His eyes skirted over Nori’s form, the concern in them subtle but noticeable to Nori’s sharp eyes.

 

Nori nodded in sympathy. “Entirely understandable, but then you’d lose your best set of hands.” He paused before adding a cheeky grin. “Besides, Middle Earth really can’t afford to lose a face this pretty.”

 

Dori snorted, but wore a wry smile. “If it keeps my hands from getting dirty, then I suppose I could spare you - this time.”

 

Nori offered a shark’s smile - _the one he reserved for arrogant employers_ \- and Dori’s eyes hardened - _the same way they always did when he dealt with blood-thirsty subordinates_ \- and the two brothers set down to discuss the business they’d been raised into.

 

Where there is a sun, there must be a moon, for one cannot rule without the other. From the moment they’d been old enough to understand the spoken word, the eldest Lorison brothers had heard these words more often than any other.

 

The Durinsons were a noble line. They cared for the mountain’s people and led Erebor with dignity and grace, but there were some tasks, some places, that they could not touch for risk of tarnishing the golden image they upheld and that image was important - _vital_ \- to the mountain’s people.

 

The Lorison’s role was to play the part of moon to the Durinson’s sun. They had to gain and maintain control of the shadowed, unpleasant parts of the district - _by whatever means necessary, as long as the mess remained in the shadows_ \- but, first and foremost, their line’s task was to protect the Durinsons. Sometimes this was a pleasant task - _it afforded them some luxuries, like Dori’s teas, and allowed them to indulge in activities that might’ve otherwise landed them with trouble, like Nori’s talents_ \- but often it was violent, tiring work that went unnoticed and unthanked.

 

As the story went, Durin, born from the mountain itself, had two families, both of whom he loved equally. His wife bore him a son and the people of the mountain rejoiced with him, but his mistress bore him a son as well and he was no less pleased. He named the son of his second family Ri and asked the Valar to bless him, as they had blessed his first son. The Valar agreed, but with one stipulation. The children of his second family would enjoy the wealth and power of the first, only as long as they looked after their kin, taking the role of the hidden protector and the unseen hand. The eldest children of his first family, in turn, were charged with looking after their kin as well, working with their less esteemed relations for the good of the mountain’s people and lending their aid when necessary.

 

Dori, as the eldest Lorison, was the face of the family. Any official decisions and alliances that were made by the family were made through him. He was sharp witted and silver tongued and his manners were nothing less than impeccable - it was everything he’d been raised to be. And while Dori sat on the throne of their “moon kingdom”, Nori stood beside him, playing the role of loyal hound. He hunted those who would hurt his family - _both his brothers and his more distant, royal kin_ \- and, when he cornered his prey, he eliminated them with a swiftness. He was raised practicing stealth, familiar with the feel of blood, and a master of the silent threat. Subtlety was a subject they both trained rigorously in - _and Nori was grateful for it, or they wouldn’t have made it even half as far as they had_ \- and their skills of observation had been tested daily, to extremes that Nori was surprised they’d endured as children, now that he looked back on it.

 

No matter the reasoning or stories behind it, this was their role in life - that the elder two Lorisons were to watch over the Durinsons and to rule when and where they could not. It did not matter if they were without a kingdom - well, it did, but it didn’t change their duties and the Lorisons were loyal as ever.

 

Which led to the reasoning behind their current conversation.

 

Dori handed him a list and Nori scanned the items listed as his brother spoke. “It’s not much, and most of it, thankfully, isn’t going to be any trouble to obtain.” Nori raised an eyebrow at his brother and tapped one particular item. “I said most of it. Mister Baggins will need a com of his own if he wants to keep up with the rest of us. Speaking of difficult to find, dangerous to obtain materials, though,” Dori’s eyes narrowed. “You became aware of Gloin’s possession of the nitroglycerin... when?”

 

Dori was his brother, but was also both his partner and his commander. Truth was a sacred thing between them, due to the nature of their business and relationship, and was never to be bent or broken. Omitting truths was a dangerous game, but not technically against the rules. “At Baggins’ place, just before Balin’s unit left.”

 

Dori pursed his lips - more of a sign of excessive thought than of displeasure. “You didn’t inform me of this sooner... why?”

 

Nori chewed at the inside of his cheek. He hated when anyone spoke in this particular cadence - _it was demeaning, patronizing, and most who made the mistake once weren’t brave enough to repeat it_ \- but Dori knew that well enough. It was a subtle chastisement and while he mentally bristled at the scolding, he was sure to keep his tone respectful. “Inconvenience and maintaining the fasade. I was going to mention it to you downstairs, but we were interrupted.”

 

It would’ve been inconvenient to catch Dori alone before arriving in Bree, what with the necessity of maintaining appearances even within the company for the time being, but possible. He’d have prefered to use the subtle, silent language that he and Dori shared to share the information, but the Dunlander’s arrival had put an abrupt stop to that.

 

“It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I detest unstable chemicals that could potentially cause damage to ourselves and our supplies?”

 

Nori switched which cheek he was chewing on and nodded. “That played a part in the decision.”

 

Dori nodded, eyes hard as they searched Nori’s face. After a moment, his face blanked and he relaxed. “Well, was there anything else that you were going to mention before we were interrupted earlier?”

 

Nori ran his hand through this hair and began to speak. A full third of the list Dori had made up was already in their possession, something that brought a pleased glint to the eldest Lorison’s eye, as well as a number of things that Dori seemed either happy or pleasantly neutral about. He didn’t care for a handful of other items that Gloin had decided to bring, but the only item that he was truly upset about was the nitroglycerin.

 

Nori took a perch on Dori’s bed, ignoring the huff of faux-annoyance that he received for it, and stared at the floor, thinking. “If we don’t want the nitro to survive the journey, this would be the most convenient location to misplace it.”

 

He caught the motion of Dori shaking his head in his peripheral vision. “I’ll find some time to speak with Balin and see how he feels. If the choice belonged to us alone, then we would be leaving it behind, but Balin will be factoring it into his strategies now and it would be rude of us to make a decision about a resource that the whole group knows we have.” He paused. “Who knew before this incident?”

 

“Gloin, Bofur, Dwalin, and me,” he took another moment to chew on his cheek again. “Ori and Baggins as well.”

 

Dori cussed softly and Nori nodded in agreement.

 

“That lad is getting more clever by the day.” Nori didn’t bother trying to hide the pride in his voice.

 

Dori smiled, a wistful tone to his voice. “He is. He would’ve been a force to be reckoned with if he’d be raised in the business.”

 

Nori nodded again. “It wasn’t safe enough, though.”

 

“It still isn’t safe enough,” Dori sighed. “I wish -”

 

Nori cleared his throat, eyes on the floor again.

 

He knew what Dori wished - he wished for it, as well. It’d be lovely to wrap Ori up in bubble wrap and hide him away from the gaze of the world for his first fifty years or so, just like it would’ve been wonderful to raise him up with the knowledge and power that would’ve been his birthright if Erebor had never fell. There were thousands of ways that Ori could have turned out, if the timing of various events had been different, but none of those Ori’s were their brother, and their youngest brother had managed to do remarkably well for himself, despite the coddling of two overprotective older brothers. He didn’t need their wishes or might-have-beens.

 

Dori hummed and took to pacing. “Moving on, what’s the atmosphere like in town?”

 

Nori ran the backs of his nails across his lips as he gathered his thoughts. “Neutral, leaning toward ugly. Harry Goatleaf is the head of Urulóki’s information network for District Shire, but he’s not exactly a welcome face there, and there’s a woman called Combe - she drifts through when she pleases and she’s linked to the O.R.C.S. somehow. Both of them demand respect, but it’s nothing we can’t handle for a single night. There are plenty of low level grunts who would sell us out, if anyone had reason suspect that we’re here, but only Archette and Staddle are actively looking and they know not to drift too close this way. We should be safe enough here - the locals in this area know not to go sharing my business with anyone.”

 

“And you play news monger here - just the area or the whole city?” It sounded like a question, but Nori knew better. Dori was the only person he knew with a sharper memory than him.

 

“I have ears everywhere, but I own these streets when I pass through - from 3rd to 13th, and from Slate to Granite. I’ll be Broy when I go shopping later tonight.”

 

Dori nodded. “Will that give you enough room to get what we need?”

 

Nori shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be sure to take Dwalin with me if I leave the front yard, though, and we’ll hold hands when we cross the street.” He wore a vague sneer when he said the words, but there was no heat to them.

 

Dori snorted. “I’m sure you will.” There was a trace of a smirk - _one that Nori mirrored_ \- before he spoke again. “While you’re out you’ll want to look into a Rowlie Appledore. He thinks to upset my hold on this city. He’s still wet behind the ears, but Urulóki was young, too.”

 

Nori nodded. “Is Marcus Hadson in town?” It wouldn’t make his task any more difficult to complete if Dori were to wander about town using the name he wore here, but Nori would have to go about things a bit differently.

 

Dori shook his head. “Not this time, at least. Not according to rumor, anyway.” His watch beeped and they both startled, even if the responses were muted. “Midnight. I suppose I should see if Balin is still awake and let you go do whatever it is hooligans do at this hour of the night.”

 

“All sorts of trouble you’d want no part, I’m sure,” Nori gave his brother a soft smile - _it stung that it was something that he had to put conscious effort into now_ \- and bumped his shoulder into Dori’s before he got to his feet. Dori stood as well. “Which is why I thought you might like this, as a bit of a peace offering. Maybe it’ll take the edge off while you’re wondering if I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

 

He pulled a small paper bag from a hidden pocket in his coat. The bag contained a small, airtight tin - _the whole thing wasn’t more than two and a half ounces and the tin was at least half of that_ \- and he tried to keep his shoulders from tensing with nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure that his gift was of as high a quality as he thought it might be, but it was the thought that counted.

 

Dori opened the package with a skeptical - _curious_ \- light in his eyes, but his face lit up brilliantly as soon as he opened the tin. “This - this is t- tieguanyin!” His eyes were bright when he looked back up, a small but honest smile on his face. “How in... By the Valar, brother! How did you come by this?”

 

Nori blinked rapidly and shifted his eyes to better study the drapes that lined the room’s lone window. It probably wasn’t a sign of good mental stability when a person threatened to get tearful over a simple endearment, but sanity was tightly rationed these days, it seemed.

 

“Right place, right time,” he tried to shrug the uncomfortable emotions away. He threw on a cheeky smile and chanced a glance at his brother again. “I remembered you mentioning the name enough times and thought it might be worth something to you.”

 

Dori made an aborted, strangled sounded and reached out - _hands faster than Nori remembered them being_ \- and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. Nori spent a moment choking on his breath before he returned the embrace just as fiercely.

 

“You are a good man.” Just as Nori was figuring out how to breathe properly again, he felt his breath seize up in his throat. “I don’t say the words often enough, but you are a good man and an excellent brother. I’m proud of you and I love you.” The words were spoken softly and muffled by Nori’s shoulder, but they were clear enough.

 

Nori nodded, tightening his grip. “Love you, too.” The words were hoarse, but understandable, if Dori’s own clinging was any indication.

 

They parted after what was probably too long, and Nori cleared his throat while Dori straightened out his shirt and fussed over his hair. Nori batted his hands away with a warm grin.

 

“None of that, now, I’m old enough to clean myself up.”

 

“Are you, now? Then make sure you do that before you come traipsing downstairs in the morning. There’s no need for you to go imprinting your bad habits on the youngest of our number.” The snarky smile almost ruined the dry reprimand, but Dori managed to pull it off well enough.

 

Nori rolled his eyes and snorted in lieu of a proper response. He moved to the door, paused just long enough to listen for any signs of occupants - _one person, standing close to the door, calm_ \- before he motioned for Dori to turn out the light and he slipped out of the room.

 

Leaning against the wall next to the door was Dwalin. He had changed into his sparring clothes - _a pair of worn denims and a tee-shirt that had seen far better days, but that clung to his form perfectly_ \- which meant he was hungry for another fight. Whatever blows he had managed to land earlier against the Dunlanders must not’ve been enough to sate him.

 

“Well, aren’t you a handsome thing?” Nori leered at him. “You ready to go dancing?”

  
Dwalin’s face broke into an eager, vicious smile. “Thought ye’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed Nori's pov! We (I) am so so sorry about the long wait! Especially with the cliff hanger we left everyone at! Real life can be demanding, though, sometimes more than others, but the story will continue! As always, reviews are more than welcome! Thanks for sticking with us!


	11. Trust and Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world can be a rough place to live in, but it's not so bad - not when you've got someone you trust to watch your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Hey Brother by Avicii. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> (Please, please, please - even if you haven't checked out the other pictures, go look at the teaser that Smalls put together for this chapter - it's so epic!!!)

_ Merciful Valar. _

 

Bofur swallowed - _or tried to_ \- and rolled onto his back. His stomach didn’t get the memo that the rest of him had stopped, though, and continued with the rolling.

 

_Sweet, merciful Valar - please!_

 

His stomach gave a horrible lurch that had Bofur whimpering - _not in the bed again, please not in the bed again_ \- but subsided.

 

_Bless the Valar, in all their many forms._

 

He - _cautiously_ \- rolled back onto his side and curled himself up as small as his - _now aching_ \- body would allow.

 

_Never again, never another drop as long as he lived - he swore by the the names of each Valar and on every one of their glorious heads!_

 

The protests his body offered gradually became less and less, and finally evened out to a dull thrumming of complaint. As long as he didn’t move too much from this one spot, he knew he’d be able to drift back to sleep and then, when he woke again, he’d be right as rain.

 

He only wished the troll trying to knock down his door knew that.

 

“Holdfast!”

 

Bofur whimpered again and pulled the blanket up over his head.

 

“Holdfast - time to wake up!”

 

_Surely the Valar weren’t this cruel - wasn’t there any mercy to be had?_

 

“Hold, if I don’t hear you up and moving in the next ten seconds, _someone_ will be coming in to get you up and moving. This isn't a vacation, oh brother of mine - we have an itinerary to keep.”

 

_Any at all?_

 

“Alright. Have it your way.”

 

_Wait - that wasn’t ten seconds!_

 

He heard the the door unlatching and the soft creak of an unfamiliar hinge, and then the approaching groan of floorboards. Someone was standing over him. He didn’t dare look to see who it was. If it was Bombur, he’d have an air horn, but if it was Bifur, he might have something to ease Bofur’s pain.

 

_Please let it be Bifur - please, please, please..._

 

Bofur waited for as long as he could stand before he peeked out from under the protection of the bedcovers.

 

_Blessed Valar. Bless every hair on their heads._

 

Above him, loomed Bifur. He looked well rested and clean shaven, wearing an amused smile and holding out a glass of water and two grey pills.

 

Bofur could’ve wept. “Bless you,” he mumbled, easing his body into a sitting position and taking what his cousin offered with shaking hands. “Valar keep you and smile on you and bless every single hair on your head.”

 

_Easy, Whiskey,_ Bofur’s hands moved while he sat himself on the side of the bed. _Too much fun last night._

 

Bofur swallowed the pills down with the chilled water and risked a slow nod. “Maybe so, but it was the last decent bar we’ll see for a good while. Had to make it count.” He took another sip of water, swished it around his mouth a time or two and spat it at the floor. “Have I slept in too late?”

 

Bifur made a face at the mess the water left, but shook his head. _Camp not broken yet._

 

Bofur risked another nod - _bit brisker in pace this time_ \- and passed the glass back to his cousin. “Good, good. Guess I’d better get moving, then.”

 

Bifur hung around while Bofur hauled himself out of bed, found some clean clothing to pour himself into, and shoved what little kit he had unpacked back into his gearbag. He struggled to pull it over his shoulder without upsetting either his stomach (which had calmed considerably since waking) or his head (which had worsened considerably since waking), but the bag was taken from his hands and set onto Bifur’s shoulder instead.

 

“A prince.” He managed a grin. “A prince among beggars, that’s what you are.”

 

Bifur rolled his eyes and ushered Bofur downstairs, settling him at a table before setting his bag down on the bench next to him. Bifur clapped a heavy hand on Bofur’s shoulder - _who bit back another whimper_ \- before making his way to another table to sit with Bombur, Oin, Balin, and Dori.

 

Twin groans drew his attention across the table, to where Fili and Kili sat. Fili was sitting up straight, glaring at the room and everyone in it. Poor lad was fighting a vicious bout of nausea, going by the untouched food and the controlled breathing. Kili, on the other hand, was resting his head on the table and shielding his face from the room with his arms. He made pitiful noises whenever he was touched, but managed to fumble some hand signs in response to Ori’s whispering.

 

Ori - _surprise, surprise_ \- was sitting between the two brothers. If he was hungover, he was damn sight better at hiding the effects. He met Bofur’s eyes across the table and tried to hide his snickering behind his hands. He was enjoying his friends’ suffering, the little sadist.

 

Gloin and Thorin were flanking either side of the three boys, and neither seemed to be hurting overly bad. They were speaking handsign - _Bofur could’ve kissed them for the mercy_ \- having some sort of conversation about Gimli and how things were back in District Ered Luin. Seemed Gloin took advantage of the relative safety and checked in with his missus, who told him exactly how pleased the princess was with Thorin’s lack of updating regarding their little adventure so far.

 

Bofur startled badly as a bowl of porridge was set before him. He ignored the sounds of Thorin and Gloin’s soft laughter and shot a wounded look over his shoulder. Bombur only raised an eyebrow and snorted. A spine of steel, that was his younger brother. He offered Bombur a bit of a smile and got an affectionate look and a mussing of his hair in return. He couldn’t blame the others for laughing at that - _at least the young princes didn’t seem so focused on their misery_ \- it was hard to tell which of them was older sometimes, what with all of Bombur’s firm-handed mothering.

 

He felt Bombur settling next to him, joining in conversation with Thorin and Gloin, and shot another look around the room.

 

Nori and Dwalin sat off in the far corner, sharing a loaf of bread and soft spoken words. They both looked like they’d seen a fair bit of brawling yesternight, but they’d have to work a sight harder if they wanted to pass some of those love bites off as battle wounds. Of course, for that pair, they might be one and the same.

 

Bofur grinned. He’d have to remember to harass Nori about it later.

 

Thorin stood then and nodded to someone across the room. “We leave in 15.” He spoke softly, but his face was just as serious as it always was during missions. “Talk to Oin before you load up,” he spared a nod for the lads and then he left the table.

 

Bofur blinked and decided that a full stomach was better than an empty stomach, no matter the nausea. He shoveled the porridge down as quickly as he could - _cool enough now that it didn’t burn_ \- and scanned the room again, making sure everyone was accounted for.

 

Thorin and Dwalin - _that’s two_ \- stood off to the side, whispering and frowning at each other like they were fond of doing. The lads - _three, four, and five_ \- were still at the table, as were Gloin and Bombur. Bifur and Oin - _eight and nine_ \- still sat at the table across the way, but, from the sound of the coms, Balin and Dori - _ten and eleven_ \- were already out sitting with the vehicles. All that left was Nori - _twelve_ \- who was headed for the front doors, and himself - _lucky number thirteen_ \- and...

 

“Oi, where’s Boxwood?”

 

Dis’ sons, who’d begun peeling themselves off the table, stopped and started searching the room.

 

“Has he not come down yet?” Kili’s voice was rough and low in a way that showed just how much he’d suffered last night, but before anyone could start fussing too much, Baggins appeared at the foot of the stairs, rucksack in tow.

 

He seemed to hone in on the lads’ distress quick enough, though, and was fussing over them before anyone could move to stop him. Poor fellow had no way of knowing that Dis was the only one who could coddle them safely when they were hurting this much. Bofur still had a set of teeth impressions on his left forearm that could attest to that.

 

But then, it didn’t seem the warning wasn’t needed. Fili and Kili both stood still for Baggins, groaning and whining, but they didn’t so much as try to bat his hands away when he reach to straighten their hair or readjust their clothing.

 

Bofur shrugged to himself and polished off the last of his food. He caught sight of Ori’s wide eyes and answered with a cheeky smile. If the lads wanted a bit of pampering while it was still safe for it, he wasn’t going to be the one to nay-say it.

 

He picked up his rucksack, and then shouldered Baggins’ as well - _and was promptly rewarded with a grateful smile_ \- before he made is own way out to the supply truck.

 

Nori sat on the hood of the supply truck, with one plastic shopping bag in his lap and another held out toward his brother. Dori and Balin were muttering to each other and examining the contents of the bag offered to them by the time he made his way over.

 

_Injured?_ Nori’s hands signed under the guise of sorting through the bag that still remained in his lap.

 

_Too much poison._ Bofur’s hands were a bit clumsy, but he got the message across, at least.

 

He hoisted both bags into the truck and then came back around to where Nori was seated.

 

“So, he’s got you bespelled, too, then?” Nori’s voice was quiet, but the sneer was loud enough.

 

Bofur frowned. He knew he was usually a bit quicker than this, but the sun was obscenely bright today and had his headache lingering in a low throb. “Uh, what now?”

 

Nori glanced up at him - _something flickered across his face, which was about the equivalent of an apology in Nori-speak_ \- before going back to studying the contents of his bag. “Well, I figured if he’s got you carting his kit around, either you’re aiming to climb into his shorts or he’s threatened to beat you into submission as well.” He shot a sly look and a cruel smile up at Bofur, then. “Of course, could be both you’re wanting. I’m not judging.”

 

Bofur couldn’t stop the snort - _which he immediately regretted_ \- or the grin. “‘S good, ‘cause you’re not in any place to be judging,” he nodded at Nori’s collection of bruises. “‘Sides, he’s not my type. Tit’s ‘re too small.” Nori let out a bark of laughter. “Nah, I’m just tryin’ to be friendly. Figure he’s not exactly used to this life and havin’ a bit of help couldn’t hurt too much.”

 

Nori gave him a searching look, which Bofur endured patiently, before he nodded. “Well, since you’re so eager to make friends with him, I’ll let you give him his com.” He tossed a small piece of something and Bofur fumbled to catch it before it fell. “Make sure he knows not to break it.”

 

Bofur nodded and looked the piece over. It wasn’t the latest piece of tech, but it was a sight better than what they’d had to make do with in the early days. “Aye, I’ll see to it.”

 

Bofur turned and trudged back into the inn - _and out of the wretched sun_ \- passing Dwalin and Bifur on the way. It was easy enough to find Baggins, he’d not moved from the table he’d met the lads at. He sat eating from Fili’s neglected plate while the lads - _all three of them_ \- spoke with Oin. He approached the local - _not much of a local any more, was he?_ \- and sat on the bench next to him.

 

“Good morning, Mister Bofur.”

 

Bofur couldn’t help, but laugh. Not but five minutes before they had to be turning over the engines and here was Baggins, eating cold eggs and hash and greeting him like they were fellows at some high end establishment.

 

“G’mornin’ yerself, Boxwood,” he grinned. “No ‘mister’ for me, I’ll thank you. Shoemaker says it gives me airs.” He fished the com out of his pocket and looked it over while discreetly scanning the room. “And no names while we’re out and about,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if he’d spoken loud enough, at first, but when Baggins paused with his food halfway to his mouth, Bofur figured he’d gotten his volume right.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“While we’re in public, around others, ye know?” He frowned at a discoloration on the com piece and rubbed at it. “That’s what the handles are for, makes things a bit more difficult for anyone eavesdropping’ to figure out who we really are.”

 

Baggins nodded and set his fork back down. “Oh, right. Right. Damn.” He looked a bit lost for a moment, but picked his fork back up and got back to eating. “I could swear that someone’s told me that, but between all the surprises lately and trying to fit twenty six new names to thirteen new faces, I’m afraid my mind’s struggling to keep up with it all.”

 

Bofur grinned and shook his head. “It won’t be half so bad once you get the hang of it.”

 

Baggins smiled a bit. “I’m sure it won’t. Thank you,...?”

 

“Holdfast.”

 

Baggins blinked. “Right, I’ll try to do a better job of remembering that this time.” He hesitated. “The one who drove me yesterday...”

 

“Prophet.”

 

“Yes, Prophet.” He mouthed the word again and nodded. “Will I be riding with him again today?”

 

“Most likely,” Bofur shrugged. “We tend to stick with the vehicles we’ve been assigned unless we’re told otherwise, and that’s usually only because someone pissed someone else off or something like that.”

 

Baggins nodded again and his smile seemed a bit easier. Bofur really didn’t want to interrupt the fellow’s meal, but Oin and the lads were headed for the door and he had a feeling that it was about time for them to head that way as well.

 

“Uh, Boxwood,” he offered a sheepish smile when Baggins looked up and nodded at the door. “It’s about that time, I think.”

 

“Oh,” Baggins set his fork down again, napkined his face, and was rising without any fuss. “I didn’t realize we were leaving so soon.” He stepped away from the table, but didn’t move again, looking, instead, at the stairway leading up.

 

“Didja forget somethin’?”

 

Baggins shook his head and looked a bit hesitant. “No, no. It’s just that...” His eyes darted around the room and Bofur scanned the room as well, tensing up as he did. There wasn’t anything he could see that was threatening - _none of the other patrons were downstairs at the moment and Dori’d said the staff here could be trusted_ \- but it wouldn’t be the first time a rookie caught sight of a threat before someone seasoned did. “It’s just that...” He leaned and bit closer and Bofur obliged him in doing the same. “It’s just that I heard some shouting on the second floor. Uh, muffled-type shouting.” Baggins flushed. “I just... I know we’re trying to not draw attention to ourselves, but should we, um... should we mention that to someone?”

 

Bofur let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and relaxed. “Second floor, you say?”

 

Baggins nodded, confusion and concern screaming in the way he stood.

 

Bofur shook his head and clapped Baggins on the shoulder, nudging him toward the door. “Nah, this place sometimes sees a more.... rambunctious crowd, the sort that don’t limit their fun to the dark hours,” he leered at Baggins and waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I’ll let Fearless Leader know, but I don’t expect it’s anything serious.”

 

Relief washed over Baggins’ face. “Oh good, I mean I -”

 

“Uh, Boxwood? I hate to interrupt, but you need this.” He shoved the ear com into Baggins’ hands without giving him time to respond and increased their speed a touch. “You stick it in yer ear like so,” He turned his head to show how his was placed. “And you push this button to turn it on and off - best leave it on, actually - and you turn this little piece right here to turn the volume up and down.”

 

“Now, just a moment!” Bilbo dug his heels in just outside the door - _at least the clouds were blocking the sun now, Valar be praised_ \- and he frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

Bofur stopped and scanned their surrounds - _was the lady across the way looking at them or watching them?_ \- before he turned to the Shireling. “This is a com, it’s what we use to communicate so quickly. You need one if you’re gonna keep up with the rest of us.” He pointed to a small button, and then to a smaller dial. “This button turns it on and off, and this deal-y is what you twist to change the volume.” He glanced up at Baggins and offered a rueful smile in apology. “I just got my hands on it before I came back in to fetch you, otherwise I would’ve pulled you aside earlier for a better briefing. But, if you still have any questions by the time we stop for lunch, I can answer them for you then.”

 

Baggins blinked and his gaze moved from the device, up to Bofur’s face and back. He looked so helplessly lost - _just like Admiral Whiskers, the hedgehog he’d had as a young lad_ \- that he wanted to throw his arm over the poor fellow’s shoulders and take him back inside for a round or two of pints.

 

“Are you going to stand there holding hands all day, Holdfast, or do you think you can be parted from your boyfriend long enough to get into the transport?” His sneer was playful as he rounded the corner of the building. He signed one handed and kept the other behind his back, probably repeating his signs for the rest of the company. _Ready to move out. Why the delay?_

 

Baggins rolled his eyes, but Bofur gave him a wink before he turned to leer at Nori. “There’s no need for jealousy, Napalm, you know you’re the only being in all of Middle Earth that I live and breathe for. If it weren’t for the delicate state of Minor’s heart, I’d challenge him for your hand this moment!” The woman was still watching, but he couldn’t get a good enough read on her to figure out if she was just gawking at the scene they were making or if she had recognized any of them. _Debriefing about new equipment. Minor miscommunication. Cleared now. On way over. Suspicious female at my five, threat level unknown._

 

“Well, if it’s just my hand you’re wanting -”

 

Nori’s lewd tone was interrupted before he could start signing by Thorin’s unamused appearance .

 

“Flirt in the vehicles. We’re burning daylight.” He was in full blown, regal commander mode, but his signing wasn’t as harsh. _Have Prophet review while they travel. Re-evaluate when we stop for noon meal. Pronto has a capture, we’ll run a check on her as we go._

 

“Right, right. Sorry, boss.” Bofur shared a sheepish grin and a bit of a laugh with Baggins before the pair of them made their way over to their perspective transports. Even as he slid back into the supply truck, he could see Ori lean forward to assist him with the unfamiliar device.

 

Bofur buckled himself in, leaned his head back against the headrest, and - _gently_ \- rested his arm over his eyes. The darkness that provided was worlds better. He felt the truck dip as Nori climbed in behind him - _Gloin had probably been ready to go for some time_ \- and heard the latch of the door closing. The rumble of the engine coming to life was a comfort and the rocking of the vehicle had him threatening to lose himself in another doze.

 

Nori, though, wasn’t going to have any of that - the elbow he jabbed into Bofur’s side told that story well enough.

 

“Valar’s mercy, Nori!” Bofur was still achy enough not to care that he was whining. “Do you not have any pity for an injured man?”

 

“Injured?” Nori’s huffing laughter was accompanied by an indignant snort from Gloin. “Poisoning yourself doesn’t count as an injury and it surely doesn’t earn you any special treatment, not in this transport.”

 

Bofur shifted in his seat to find a better position and grinned. “That’s true - I forget how much a sadist you can be.” He paused for a moment. “But I bet Dwalin doesn’t ever forget how much of a masochist you are, does he?” He peered out from beneath his arm to leer at Nori again. “Do you have to ask him all pretty to put those bruises on yer neck like that, or does he do that on his own?’

 

Nori answered that with his elbow and Bofur’s stomach gave an ugly lurch at the impact.

 

“None of that now!” Gloin growled. “It’ll be you cleaning up the mess this time if you have him sicking in here again.”

 

Bofur groaned as his stomach churned - _if his body really was going to sick itself then he was aiming for Nori_ \- but a belch of epic proportions - _if he did say so himself_ \- rattled the windows of truck’s cabin instead.  Gloin burst into laughter at that and Nori grinned, even as he rolled his eyes, but in the span of less than a half minute, all traces of mirth were gone and they both wretched even as they struggled to get the windows rolled down.

 

“What the fuck did you eat last night, Bof? Road kill?” The car swerved just a bit as Gloin tried to drive with his head out the window.

 

“You need to bottle that,” Nori’s grin wasn’t entirely faded, it seemed, even as he turned toward the window to breathe in clean air again. “It could really hurry things along in my profession - and keep things from getting too messy too quickly.”

 

Bofur laughed. For all that the burp tasted as bad as it smelled, his stomach was feeling worlds better for having it out now. “Nah - it’d be unreliable, wouldn’t it? What if the one you’re questioning has a cold and can’t smell nothing?”

 

“Playtime, this is Ironside. You want to explain why you’re all over the road, over?” Thorin’s voice was gruff as ever, but was more curious than annoyed at the moment, which Bofur counted as a kindness.

 

“Playtime, here. Holdfast’s putting out fumes that could raise the dead. Took us a bit by surprise.” Gloin brought his head back into the cabin to speak. “We’ve got the situation under control now, though. Over”

 

It was easy to imagine the long pause that followed filled with more snickering and laughter. Which was only confirmed when Thorin’s voice, full of suppressed mirth, was heard again over the coms.

 

“Good to know, Playtime. Ironside, over and out.”

 

In the silence that returned after Thorin’s questions, the windows were rolled up again and Gloin shook his head. “You should warn a fellow before you go spewing noxious airs like that.”

 

“Well, at least his royalness won’t be telling your missus that you’ve been into the drink while you’re on wheel duty.” Bofur answered with an unrepentant grin.

 

“Seriously, though, lad -”

 

“LAD?! I’m only a year younger than you and two younger than Red!”

 

Nori arched a brow in that ridiculous manner of his and smirked before continuing. “A bit of a warning would be much appreciated before we’re subjected to friendly fire again, please and thank you.” Bofur frowned. That settled it, the very next time he was sick, it was going to be on Nori. “But if we’ve the concentration, I’d like to be discussing a bit of business while we’ve got the privacy and safety to be discussing it.”

 

Both Bofur and Gloin calmed themselves a bit and Nori typed out a message on his vid-com before continuing.

 

“Right. First off, Goatleaf - Urulóki’s man in Bree - and Combe - a woman with some sort of connection to the O.R.C.S. - are fighting over who’s king of the run-down-hill. Goatleaf has the benefit of a wide power base and the favors that being king for a good while brings, but Combe is focused and driven. She’s after something and while no one really knows what it is, Goatleaf wants to keep her away from it, so she’s going to have to topple him in order to get it.”

 

Nori had a good many positive qualities, but what Bofur appreciated most - _especially when hungover_ \- was that his friend’s voice naturally dropped to an almost whisper when he provided sensitive information like this. He had this lilting cadence to his words, too, and if Bofur wasn’t careful, he might drift off to sleep again.

 

“The real danger in Bree right now is Rowlie Appledore. He’s making friendly with everyone and his mind moves along the same paths that Dori’s does.” Nori sneered as he said Dori’s name, but his eyes were scanning the horizon again. “He’ll own that city soon if no one catches on fast enough.”

 

“Is your area still secure?” Gloin’s voice was enough to jar Bofur out of his pleasant half-doze. He pouted even as Gloin and Nori both smirked.

 

“Yes, but barely. If we’d been another week before arriving, I’d have lost all my work. I’ve started what I could to make friction for him, but there’s no telling how well it’ll take.” His vid-com vibrated and Nori was distracted momentarily. “Looks like the woman that gave you the stink eye just now is working for Staddle.”

 

Bofur groaned and heard Gloin cuss. “Since when is that bitch outsourcing?”

 

Nori shook his head. “Family? Bofur’s stalker might be a sister of some sort. Looks like she’s got a cousin she’s working with as well. I’m informing Thorin right now.”

 

In the quiet that followed, Bofur hadn’t been aware that he’d fallen asleep. Not until a loud bang shoved him, gasping, into wakefulness again.

 

Gloin howled with laughter, while Nori clutched his sides, the offending and now useless, plastic bag still clutched in his grasp.

 

“You two are a pair of arses, you are,” Bofur grumbled, shifting in his seat after he made sure to tuck his pistol away safely again. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though,” he grinned, chuckling along with his friends. “You are what you eat, and all that.”

 

Gloin’s laughter dissolved into sputtering, but Nori’s laughter only increased until Bofur thought he might suffocate for lack of air.

 

Bofur snorted and rolled his eyes. “Ye gonna breathe any time soon or should I declare Dori the winner of Lorison cold war by default?”

 

Nori shook his head and - _finally_ \- gasped for breath. “The look... on your face!”

 

Bofur stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms in a mock huff.

 

Gloin snickered and gave him a sidelong look. “You’ll want to watch yourself. You let your face stick like that and we’ll be mistaking you for the Shireling left and right.”

 

Bofur scoffed and threw up his hands - _there was no pleasing this lot, sometimes_ \- while Nori finished composing himself.

 

“Speaking of Bilbo Baggage,” and, just like that, all the amusement fled Nori’s face. Bofur - _who had seen Nori’s various working personalities before_ \- wondered what it was about the scientist that brought about the mood swing. “Now that we’ve had the time to catch up on all the gossip and observe our new mascot properly, what do we think of him?”

 

Bofur hummed and tilted his head. Well, that was an unexpected topic for conversation. He turned to glance at Gloin - _who was frowning faintly, but otherwise focused on the road_ \- and shrugged as he turned back to face Nori.

 

“He’s nice enough,” Bofur nodded. “He’s spring green, there’s no denying that, but his cooking is first rate and he’s real polite so far. He seemed a bit lonely, if you asked me, all alone in that great big house.” Nori snorted and signed something rude. “Ah, don’t be like that. He’ll get used to life on the road if we give him half a moment to catch his breath, I think.”

 

Gloin snorted, too, now. “Bottom line is that he’s a liability.” Bofur frowned and Gloin shook his head. “It’s nothing personal - I’m sure he’s a perfectly decent human being, but I’m also sure my Gimli knows more about survival than Baggins does and that’s going to leave us hurting.”

 

“Your son is useful, yes,” Nori nodded. “But he doesn’t have the knowledge we need.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Bilbo is weak and defenseless, but he has the command of science that we need. There’s no way for him to give that information to us quickly, so he’s a hindrance, but a necessary one.” Nori’s eyes glinted oddly and returned to the horizon. He ran the tips of his fingers along his lips for a moment before he spoke again. “Having Baggins along is like keeping a set of thieves picks in your back pocket. Perfectly designed to fulfill precisely one function, but anyone catches you with them and they know exactly what you’re up to.”

 

Gloin grunted in agreement, but Bofur held his peace. That made a sort of sense.

 

“Just wait til we put a bazooka in his hands,” Gloin grinned. “Then we’ll know the true color of his coin!”

 

Bofur laughed, but stopped as a thought came to him. “Still, Greyhame is vouching for him - personally vouching for Bilbo Baggins! That has to mean that he has some sort of hidden talents or skills!”

 

Gloin groaned and palmed his face. “Not this shite again.”

 

Nori slumped low in his seat, but he still looked vaguely amused while Bofur shook his head. “No, no! These are all legitimate theories!”

 

“Legitimate horsecrap.” Gloin rolled his eyes.

 

“Don’t be like that, Gloin!” Bofur pouted. He shifted so that he could face Nori more fully - _Gloin liked to accuse Bofur of paranoia and superstition, but he knew Nori took him seriously_ \- and took a breath. “So, we all know how the White Council established the Imladris Initiative to assess the causes of conflict between districts so that they could anticipate and head off social breakdowns, like what lead up to the Great War, right?”

 

Gloin snorted, but Nori - _indulgent smile aside_ \- nodded.

 

“Well, Gandalf would be the perfect agent for them! Think about it - he’s older than dirt, he’s has more connections than Dori, and he’s better at subtle manipulation than Dis’s sons with sweets on the line!” Bofur shifted again - _couldn’t explain things right unless he had both hands free_ \- and tried to slow his thoughts. “But the biggest thing about Gandalf - the thing that really points to the fact that he HAS to be involved with the White Council - is that there’s no records of him before 40 years ago. No hospital records, no birth certificate, no criminal records or citizenship documents - _nothing!_ No birthdate, even! Everyone has a birthdate!” Bofur threw his hands up in the air and Nori’s grin widened. “I even tried asking Gandalf himself what his birthdate is and he wouldn’t tell me! Now, you tell me that that’s not the least bit suspicious?!”

 

“Not everyone has to tell ye their birthday, lad.” Gloin scoffed. “Some people enjoy having a bit of privacy every now and again.”

 

Nori didn’t comment, but his shoulders were twitching horribly.

 

“If - and I understand that this is a bit of a leap -” Nori made a choked sound and turned his face away quickly. Bofur was a good enough friend not to comment on this. “If Gandalf is a member of the White Council - which all the rumors say he is - then he’d be around two hundred years old! Any member of the White Council would be that old! And when you’ve got two hundred years sitting under your belt, you’re not exactly keen on telling everyone what year you were born, now are you? Especially not if the documentation is hard to prove!”

 

“There’s a lot of documentation that was lost in the early days after the Great War - and a lot of dark deeds that were visited on a lot of good folk before the district boundaries were firmly established. What’s to say Gandalf didn’t come out of that?”

 

Bofur clapped and whooped at Gloin’s protests. “YES! Now you’re asking the right questions!” He shifted so that he could face Gloin now - _Nori was too busy fighting his laughter to listen_ \- and took another deep breath. “The Great War did wipe out a lot of documentation. There’s people - powerful people - and cities that just disappeared like the world swallowed them up - records and all. But isn’t that suspicious in and of itself? That some of these people didn’t just die - they weren’t just missing - all records of them disappeared?”

 

Gloin gave him a look of suffering patience, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Gandalf is one of those people! There are no records at all of his existence before forty years ago, and you’re right, Gloin, that’s not so exciting in and of itself.” He didn’t bother hiding his grin as both of his companions startled into silence. “What’s exciting is that in the first photos and documents that we do have - which are few and far between, by the by - Gandalf looks not even a day younger than he appears today.” He let the silence stretch on - _Dori Lorison wasn’t the only one to know how to tell a story properly_ \- before he dropped his voice. “It just so happens that there’s a photo, a very old photo, of the court of one of the poorer regions that was utterly destroyed. In that photo - which is, by the by, the only one still in existence of that particular region’s court - is a man who looks nearly identical to the one that we’ve been calling Gandalf Greyhame.”

 

He leaned forward to reach his rucksack - _should’ve kept it in his lap, it was a pain reaching across Nori’s long legs_ \- while he let that information sink in.

 

“Now - is that coincidence? Is it just some ancient family member of Greyhame’s? Possibly. Maybe Greyhame aged before his time, too, and has looked like a seventy something year old man for the past four decades as well.” He paused, grinning, as he finally wrestled his water skin free. “If there’s any where in all of Middle Earth that has the real answers, it’s Rivendell. Why Rivendell, you ask? Because the damned place can’t be found unless it wants to be. Everyone knows it exists, everyone’s heard of their impenetrable defences, but no one can point to where it is on a map, can they?” He shook his head and took a long pull of water before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “You just can’t argue with that logic.”

 

The silence stretched on, but Bofur kept his silence. It wasn’t often that his friends listened to even this much of the theories he’d been stewing over and he didn’t want to interrupt their thoughts.

 

“That,” Nori spoke at last. “Actually makes sense.”

 

“That is a bunch of bull shit. So Greyhame is over two hundred years old, is he?” Gloin scoffed and shook his head. “No no, the White Council is a farce - a monster designed by the heads of the districts to frighten younglings into behaving - and this fairy tale ‘immortal council’ is just proof of that. What authority figure doesn’t use a scare or two to keep their charge in line?” Bofur exchanged a look with Nori - _who shook his head in mock disappointment_ \- while Gloin shifted. “Nemli and I have Gimli convinced that he’ll start growing fungus behind his ears if he doesn’t bathe at least every other day.”

 

Bofur was gaping, he knew he was gaping because Nori was grinning at him again, but Gloin couldn’t be serious - he just couldn’t.

 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that - you trying wrestling a water phobic six year old hellion into a bath and see if anyone gets clean.”

 

Bofur bit his lip - _he wasn’t the sort to laugh at his friends for the family troubles, after all_ \- while Gloin glared at the road. “He doesn’t... still believe that, does he?”

 

Gloin shifted again, his shoulder starting to hunch up around his ears. “Well, I might’ve over emphasized a few points...”

 

Bofur bit his knuckles to try to keep his laughter contained and shook his head.

 

“Didn’t... didn’t Gimli turn sixteen last month?” Nori looked to be caught between horror and amusement.

 

Gloin nodded and all control Bofur had over his mirth evaporated. He leaned against Nori as he howled with laughter and couldn’t spare the effort to pay attention to what Gloin was sputtering.

 

“The point is!” Gloin’s voice rose to be heard over the racket Bofur was making. Nori nudged his ribs with his elbow and Bofur clamped a hand over his mouth in an effort to be genial. “The point is... that it would just be stupid if Greyhame didn’t take advantage of all these rumors about him being immortal and a member of the spooky and all powerful White Council. It doesn’t make the damn thing any more likely to be real.”

 

It was Bofur’s turn to scoff and he did so with great aplomb before he turned to Nori. “What about you? You’re the one with your ear to the ground - what do you think?”

 

“About Gandalf or the White Council?”

 

Bofur rolled his eyes. “Yes, both.”

 

Nori shifted so that he was sitting upright again and turned his gaze back to the road. “There is an organization that calls itself the White Council -” Bofur’s shout of triumph was met with grumbling from Gloin and an annoyed look from Nori. “And I’m fairly certain that Greyhame is working with them, but whether they’re the same entity that you’ve described has yet to be determined.”

 

Bofur blinked. Now that hadn’t occurred to him.

 

“Still, the fact that Greyhame has a connection to this group, and that Greyhame not only led us to Baggins, but also is helping us make our way back home... that’s enough to make a body wonder. Where’s the profit for them in helping us?”

 

Gloin huffed. “It’d profit all of Middle Earth to erase that arse-rag Uruloki from existence!”

 

“Aye, that it would,” Nori nodded, his tone thoughtful. “But why help us? In any strategy game, you don’t send your most important pieces out first, and certainly not where there might be danger. Greyhame is talented, knowledgeable and better connected than either of you can imagine. If this organization is using him as a footman, try imagining what the rest are like...” He paused a moment and nodded to himself, eyes still scanning the horizon. “Now, everyone knows that Erebor is prime real estate. In the right hands it could save Middle Earth and in the wrong hands it could end everything.”

 

“Assuming you can get it working,” Bofur chimed in.

 

“Of course,” Nori nodded again. “But a group like that - they’d have the funds and connections to send anyone to pull it away from Uruloki, it didn’t have to be us. Gandalf could’ve given us a decoy-scientist, or just told us that there wasn’t anyone left... He didn’t have to give us Baggins, didn’t have to hand over the key, didn’t have to do anything to help us - not really. So what is it that they want? Why are we the ones they want to try winning Erebor back?”

 

Bofur blinked again. How had he never thought of that? He’d been so focused on Bilbo that he never paused to consider the reasons for the White Council to -

 

“Speaking of Uruloki,” Gloin’s voice startled Bofur from his thoughts. “Have we started a betting pool about whether the pond scum is still alive or not?”

 

“Not yet,” Nori grinned and shifted so that he was able to watch his traveling companions more comfortably. “But I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

 

Bofur laughed. “I say he’s dead as stone.”

 

“No way,” Gloin shook his head. “That would be entirely too convenient. Put me down for alive and still as much of an arse-wipe as ever.”

 

“Aw, c’mon guys - think positive! Maybe the stress of trying to crack Mahal was just too much and he had a heart attack! And then all his lackeys had to overcompensate with this aggressive campaign against us, keeping the idea of him alive to inspire fear, all the while hoping that no one comes around to challenge him!”

 

Nori shook his head, but at least he looked amused while he was doing it. “Definitely not dead.”

 

Bofur made a sound of frustration and offered a rude hand sign to Nori. Not that he expected the eavesdropper to say anything else, but still. It wouldn’t hurt him to agree with Bofur a bit more often, would it?

 

“Enemies are like children,” Nori continued. “If you can see and hear them, then it’s easy to tell what trouble they’re getting up to. If you can’t catch sight of them and they haven’t made a peep in ages - that’s when you know to worry.”

 

Gloin agreed with Nori and Bofur grinned as the conversation turned back to the adventures and antics of Gimli again. Nori groaned, but Bofur figured he’d brought it on himself.

 

Bofur, himself, was quite content to slouch down in his seat and watch the scenery pass by. The great East-West road was far from the blandest terrain he’d ever set eyes on. In fact, on the rare occasion that he had to drive about on his lonesome, he preferred to stick to East-West road.

 

From Bree, the road would take them through the Weather Hills and the Lone-Lands, and that’s when they’d all be able to start relaxing. No cities or towns or little villages to gawk and judge a body. Only ruins and maybe the occasional Hill Man. They’d leave the road before they fully entered Rhuduar Territory, though, and that was a bit of a shame.

 

The Rhuduar lands had to have held something important in their day, for someone to take the time to destroy them so thoroughly. All that remained now was broken bridgeways and old, busted vehicles. If you were lucky - _and willing to go a ways off road_ \- you might see a glimpse or two of the remains of giant satellites, but mostly the area was littered with the broken foundations and shattered structural beams of the buildings that once dotted the landscape.

 

It was a shame that they couldn’t take the time to properly show the place off to Baggins. Poor bit of land like this, Bofur figured that it might have gotten used to all the bustle and noise that people brought with them and was probably a bit lonely now with everyone only ever passing through. He’d have to remember to bring the whole company back through this area later, after the adventure was over. He’d show them all the hidden pockets that made this place interesting.

 

But first... first a nap might be in order...

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“... with Foxhound, here. Got some worrying news for you. Looks like Playtime might be trying to grow a tail.”

 

“Wha-?” Bofur blinked and struggled to straighten himself out in his seat. “What’s going on?”

 

“Ori’s caught sight of someone what might be following us.” Gloin glanced at him sidelong and motioned to his mouth. “You might want to, uh...”

 

Bofur frowned and went to wipe at his mouth, cringing at the feel of cold wetness. He’d been drooling again, then. Wonderful. Nori snickered even as he typed away at his portable vid-com.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to scrub the mess away. He looked over his shoulder, out the back window, to catch a glimpse of this tail they were talking about. “I don’t see anything.” Bofur frowned and twisted around to try to get a better look before he patched himself into the coms. “Holdfast with Playtime, here. I’m looking all over m’bum and I don’t see any sign of a tail.”

 

“Pronto, again. That’s because I’m looking at the x-rays right now. It hasn’t had time to manifest, and there’s no evidence the growth is malign, but if it is, then we might not have much time to excise it.”

 

Bofur blinked. “Uh... what, now?”

 

“I can’t tell if it’s friend or foe, but there’s definitely someone on the road behind you lot. I have a visual in front of me that says so and they’re slowly advancing. They’ll probably be in visual range in the next... ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ori’s tone was exasperated.

 

Bofur turned back around to further sounds of Nori snickering, but ignored that. “Right then. What’s the plan, Ironside?”

 

“Shelldrake speaking on behalf of Playtime. Seeing as how it’s our arse that the tail’s on, something that involves a big boom wouldn’t be remiss.” Gloin smirked as Bofur and Nori each sat up a little straighter.

 

“Shelldrake is right,” Nori smirked into the com. “I’d even be willing to crawl into the back and dig up the rocket launcher, if it’d make things more convenient.”

 

“Now, now, Napalm,” Balin’s voice. “If we’re going to take out a motorist, don’t you think it would be better to be a bit more subtle about it? We should have those road spikes packed somewhere.”

 

“Road spikes are more discrete,” Bombur spoke up. “But they wouldn’t buy us much time, not really. And really, it will just let our tail know they’ve been spotted and might allow them the opportunity to put some other plan in place. Surprise is key here, I’d say.”

 

“You just want to blow something up!” Kili’s voice was all laughter. “You’re just as bad as Shelldrake is when you’re fiending for a boom.”

 

“You lot aren’t actually considering blowing up a fellow motorist just because they’re driving behind us, are you? You do realize that there’s just the one road? And that anyone also headed in this direction would be, by necessity, either ahead of us or behind us?”

 

Bofur frowned as he listened to Baggins over the coms. How was it possible to sound that reproachful over the coms? Even Dis had never managed to sound that disappointed.

 

“It’s like you can see his frown from here,” Nori muttered.

 

The silence stretched on over the coms until Thorin broke it.

 

“Echo, this is Ironside. Get that launcher ready. We’ll be dropping past you momentarily. Bluebell, Pronto - be ready to provide visual confirmation. Over and out.”

 

Nori was out of his seat and climbing out the window before Thorin had finished speaking. Without showing the the slightest hint of fear or concern, he maneuvered his way into the bed of the truck and went about searching for the rocket launcher’s case.

 

“Now wait just a moment!!” Baggin’s voice was on the coms again, louder and more upset this time. “You can’t just kill -”

 

The voice cut off abruptly, quickly replaced by Dori’s.

 

“This is Foxhound Unit. Sorry about that. Over and out.”

 

Bofur shared a look with Gloin before snickering.

 

Gloin seemed content with chuckling. “Guess we offended his delicate sensibilities.”

 

“Can you blame him, though? A genteel, scholarly man like him stuck with a bunch of crass, blood thirsty trolls like ourselves?” Bofur giggled the last of his laughter away. “I’m just grateful me mum isn’t here to see what I’ve become!”

 

Bofur almost managed to say the whole thing with a straight face - almost. He had Gloin laughing now, though, and that was victory enough for him.

 

The approaching roar of two nearing motorcycles shook them a bit closer to seriousness, but all it took was Bofur sending a rude hand sign and a leering look to their fearless leader for them to find the humor in the situation again. Thorin managed to sign something appropriately sassy in return and Bofur found himself laughing too hard to see Nori throw the rocket launcher to Dwalin. He was able to feel Nori kick his thigh as he came in out of the elements.

 

“What’s got him busting a stitch?”

 

Gloin repeated the hand signs for Nori’s benefit and the truck cab was filled with the sounds of mirth once again.

 

“Oh, oh no more!” Bofur pleaded. “My face aches and my stomach’s beginning to hurt!”

 

“Fuck off!” Gloin growled, still grinning. “At least you’re not the one who has to drive while you’re laughing”

 

Nori huffed as he found his breath again. “And here I thought you had your eyes set on our new man of science. Baggins will be heartbroken.”

 

“Nah,” Bofur grinned. “If I can’t have you, then I might as well set my sights on the next best thing. Try to marry above my rank and all that.”

 

“Sunray Minor, in position, over.” Dwalin’s voice rolled through the coms.

 

The silence that followed was a bit sobering. Bofur spent the time twisting around in his seat yet again,trying to find a comfortable position to watch out the back.

 

“Sunray Major, in position, over.” Thorin’s voice followed and the silence seemed to get heavier. Still, it wasn’t overly long before Thorin was heard on the coms again. “Eyes on target.” Another pause. “Transmitting visuals, over.”

 

“This is Pronto. Images received, over.” Ori’s voice was followed by what seemed to be an unnaturally long pause. “That’s an affirmative, Minor! Tail is hostile!”

 

“Wilco, Pronto.”

 

Bofur spared enough time to share a sharp grin with Nori - _who was now scrambling to twist about in his seat, which of them was the more clever now?_ \- before he had his eyes glued to the scenery passing by the back window again. And not a moment too soon, either, because the most wonderful explosion ate up the horizon, to the cheers of Nori and Bofur. Gloin grumbled good naturedly about missing the fireworks due to being a responsible driver, but even he was grinning again.

 

It was only a matter of minutes before Thorin’s voice was heard over the coms again. “Vehicle totalled. Four confirmed dead. No survivors.”

 

“An explosion that big, they were packing fun of their own,” Gloin added his piece over the coms. “Explosives likely, but munitions for sure. A rocket launcher just doesn’t make that big of a boom on it’s own.”

 

“Roger that, Shelldrake. Ironside to regroup. Strike any rests or pits stops previously planned. We don’t rest until sundown, and we’re a mile off trail when we do, over.”

 

“Wilco,” Balin spoke up.

 

“Wilco that,” Dori added.

 

“Aye, wilco,” Gloin nodded.

 

“Over and out,” Thorin rumbled.

 

Bofur resettled himself properly in his seat again, sharing a grin with Nori as he did the same. It was a happy silence that filled the cab of the truck for the next few minutes, before a sudden thought had him frowning.

 

“Fearless leader said no stops between here and camp, didn’t he?”

 

At Gloin’s nod, Bofur cussed.

 

“What’s ailing you now?” Nori arched a brow.

 

“Oh, nothing.” Bofur shrugged. “It’s just... Now that I know we’re not stopping...”

 

Bofur didn’t have to finish his thought before Nori was laughing again. Bofur couldn’t help but shake his head and roll his eyes, but Gloin looked annoyed to be kept out of the loop.

 

“What is it?” he grumped. “What’s got his knickers in a twist?”

 

Nori opened his mouth to speak and Bofur hid his face in his hands. “He has to take a piss now!”

 

Gloin’s laughter filled the cab again and Bofur slumped lower in his seat. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Bofur sighed and ran a hand through his hair while he scanned the edges of the camp site. The fire had been out for a while, but there was a sliver of moon hanging in the sky tonight and it was putting off just enough light to see by. The damp in the air and the ache in his bones meant it was almost time for shift change, but watch had been - _blessedly_ \- uneventful so far.

 

Uneventful allowed quite a bit of time for thinking, though, and that wasn’t always a good thing in Bofur’s book. His mind didn’t get stuck on violence - _not the way Bifur’s sometimes did_ \- but without anything to keep him preoccupied, he did tend to dwell on things he’d be happier not contemplating.

 

He wondered if his childhood home was still standing and just how much damage it may have taken on over the years. It was a long, narrow little building, but that had given them so much more yard to play in than the other kids on their block had had.

 

Nothing but clover seemed to grow in that yard. It was a nice thing for those with barefeet, but it drove their father, the aspiring garner, mad.

 

The place would need at least another coat or two of paint, even if it had escaped the worst of the damage, and Bofur had passed hours away, before, just trying to mull over if it should be painted pale yellow with white trim - _like it’d always been_ \- ash grey with brick red trim - _like mum had always badgered pa for_ \- or whether he should just paint the house black with yellow racing stripes, like he’d always wanted. When he was feeling mature, he knew that Bombur should get a say in the colors, too, but these thoughts only ever really came to him in the lonely hours of the night and he hadn’t gotten around to asking yet.

 

Inevitably, something he was thinking on would lead his thoughts to his brother’s wife and their children. He didn’t like that they’d had to leave Hala all alone with the little ones, but Dis had promised to lend a hand with them whenever she could and the kids loved her. Nemli and Gimli would be near enough to help as well and that eased Bofur’s heart even more. It wasn’t like the ankle biters were wild or unruly - _not like Dis’s sons had always been_ \- but three children was a lot for a single person to wrangle on their own and Bofur had been living on the road long enough that he couldn’t help fussing over what family he had left.

 

He spent a few minutes shifting before he got himself to his feet and headed for the perimeter of their quaint little campsite. Bofur wasn’t fond of the dark way his thoughts were trying to turn and sometimes he was able to outrun his thoughts a bit better if he was actively moving. It was about time for him to lay eyes on the edges of their resting place, anyway.

 

Leaving behind their families - _their lovers and spouses and children_ \- the thought of it made Bofur’s skin itch when he thought on it too long. There hadn’t been much peace since... not for for the past sixteen years or so. What little peace they had managed to scrape together had been found with their distant kin in District Ered Luin and even that had only been for the past few years.

 

A decade and a half spend on the road changed a person.

 

Bofur knew he was no longer the young, bright eyed lad that could find himself as much at ease in a roomful of strangers as he was with family. Every person he didn’t recognize now was a potential threat and the feeling only got worse when the vulnerable parts of their family - _the young ones and the ones without as much combat experience_ \- were nearby. He liked to think that he did a fair job at hiding the feelings - _distrust, fear, jealousy, sometimes anger_ \- but they still pooled in the pit of his stomach, simmering and festering until he could get somewhere safe again and make sure everyone was accounted for.

 

No matter how much he fussed over the family and friends they’d left behind, though, opting out of the mission had never been an option - not for Bofur. Sitting helplessly by the wayside while his folk, the lads he trusted without thought or reservation, walked into certain danger... he just couldn’t do that.

 

Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d left their folk without protection. Knowing that it was the rest of Oakenshield One that was looking after everyone back home allowed Bofur to relax enough to focus properly on the mission at hand, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who thought that way, either.

 

This assignment was different from any other he’d ever taken on with Thorin, though. He could feel the usual excitement that infected him on getting ready to move against the enemy, but there was a lingering concern that he couldn’t seem to shake as well. The youngest of their group were all good lads - _well trained and sharp witted_ \- but a part of him wished that they could’ve been left at home. It wasn’t that he thought that the three of them couldn’t handle themselves - _they were all more than clever enough get out of whatever trouble they came across and Dis’ boys were always quick to defend not just each other, but young Ori, as well_ \- but no one could deny the simple fact that killing changed a soul. Killing another human, another person, even in self defence ... it was a horrible, soul shaking thing the first time it happened, and while it did get easier over time, it was certainly something he didn’t look forward to seeing the lads go through. He hoped that they didn’t take it too roughly, when their time came, but -

 

“Mister Bofur?”

 

He came back to himself to find that he had shoved his pistol in Baggins’ face and was panting lightly. Baggins, for his part, held very still, eyes wide to the point of being comical and hardly daring to breath.

 

“Oh, Mister Bilbo!” Bofur dropped his aim immediately, careful to keep his voice low. “You nearly scared the piss out of me just then!” He tucked his pistol away with an apologetic grin and forced his body to relax again. “Everything all right?”

 

“I, uh, yes.” Baggins blinked after a moment. “Yes. All’s well. It’s just that I woke up and I thought that you were supposed to be on watch, but you were gone and... and there was movement in the darkness.” His smile turned a touch sheepish, but his voice seemed to gain confidence as he continued speaking, so Bofur figured he hadn’t been shaken up too badly.

 

“Just patrolling the perimeter,” Bofur offered. He scanned the darkness one more time before he led them both back to the camp. “It’s important to move around a bit every once in a while - keeps the blood moving and it might give you the chance to catch sight of something you would’ve missed otherwise.”

 

Baggins nodded while Bofur climbed up to sit on the hood of one of the vehicles. Baggins had an odd look on his face at that, a sort of exasperated smile and a half glare. Bofur couldn’t help but offer a cheeky grin and pat the space next to him, pulling another huff from the Shireling.

 

“If I’d caught Fili and Kili sitting up here, I’d have scolded them into next week.” But even as he spoke, Baggins was climbing up to sit next to him. “Can’t be good for the engine,” he muttered.

 

Bofur tried to keep his laughter hidden, but the Shireling was more observant than he looked and Bofur hadn’t managed to stop the shaking of his shoulders, anyway. Baggins looked unimpressed while Bofur tried to reign in his humor, but Bofur didn’t miss the smile that Baggins was trying to fight either.

 

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Bofur spoke again. “Trouble sleeping?”

 

Baggins seemed to startle a bit and started to shake his head before he stopped and sighed. “A bit.”

 

Bofur nodded. “It’s rough the first few nights - especially if you’re not used to it. Didn’t sleep at all the first few nights I had naught but branches and leaves for shelter against the stars.” Baggins looked surprised and then curious, but didn’t move to interrupt. “Eventually, though, the body learns that it’s not really any safer inside a house than outside it and sleep starts to come easier. That, and I just got so worn out I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more,” Bofur added with a grin.

 

Baggins answered with a grin of his own and shook his head.

 

Bofur looked him over, trying to remember if the lads had made mention of how chatty he normally was. Baggins was still dressed in the BDUs they’d given him earlier, jacket aside, of course, but he was rolling his left shoulder occasionally, too, and that was a bit of a worry.

 

“Are you hurtin’ any?” Bofur elbowed the man carefully.

 

Baggins shook his head, but his smile grew a bit warmer. “Just aching a bit. All that training - the weapons and how to take them apart and put them back together and what they’re called and used for - and then the... the sparring after - I wasn’t expecting quite that much activity this evening.”

 

Bofur laughed, quietly but openly this time. “The lads might’ve been a bit over eager in their trying to teach you.” He shifted and scanned the area beyond the camp, before returning his attention to Baggins.

 

Baggins’ posture relaxed and he cast a fond look at where the lads had laid out their bedrolls - _on either side of Ori’s, predictably_ \- before he spoke. “They were just excited, I think. They finally have the chance to start showing me the things they’re familiar with rather than learning about how the Shire folk do everything.”

 

Bofur nodded. “Aye, they’re always eager to be the first to share something with a friend.” He paused. “The clothes fitting okay?”

 

Baggins’ blinked. “What? Oh! Yes, yes they are, actually,” he smiled. “Although there’s a bit of an oddly shaped hole just here,” he demonstrated by sticking his finger into a hole that decorated the lower left corner of the left breast pocket of his jacket.

 

He looked back up at Bofur, and Bofur knew that they were both perfectly aware that the hole in question had been made by a bullet.

 

Still, Bofur made a show of looking at the hole closely before he handed the damaged jacket back. “Think of it as a good luck charm.”

 

“A good luck charm?” And Bofur had thought that Nori was good at sarcasm.

 

Bofur felt his grins stretch wider. “Sure! You’ve heard that lightning never strikes the same place twice, right?”

 

The expression on Baggins’ face changed, then, into a look of such incredulity that Bofur felt his chest starting to shake with mirth again.

 

“You’ve got to be joking...” Baggins’ eyes narrowed at Bofur while Bofur reached up to slide a hand over his mouth to stifle himself. If he kept this up he was likely to wake the whole camp.

 

Bofur shook his head, grinning like the fool he was, and gave Baggins another nudge with his elbow. “Nah - serious as the grave. A hole like that in a spot like that? Nothing but good luck.” He managed to nod at the end, but couldn’t straighten out his face.

 

Baggins rolled his eyes and huffed, but kept his peace about it.

 

“You’re a fair cook,” Bofur offered as an olive branch of sorts. “Even away from your delightfully stocked kitchen.”

 

Baggins frowned at Bofur for a moment, eyes searching for something, but whatever he found, he relaxed again soon enough. “Thank you,” he spoke softly.

 

Bofur nodded, still smiling, but earnest about it. “Although, I don’t think Bombur was expecting you to be so quick with that wooden spoon of yours.”

 

Baggins’ expression shifted to some cross between annoyed and guilty. “It’s a habit, especially with Fili and Kili hovering over me while I cooked.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Bofur laughed. “They’re a tricky pair, the two of them. Bombur’s had a bit of a head start on them, though, as far as filching food goes. Our mum had reflexes about like yours.”

 

Baggins chuckled a bit. “So that’s why the Assistant didn’t work on him!”

 

It was Bofur’s turn to gape at Baggins now, perverse horror sinking into his bones. “ _You’ve named it?!_ ”

 

Baggins shrugged. “I had to. I’m always having cousins and younglings over and I didn’t want to give them the idea that they needed to be wary of every spoon in the house. Just the one I use for baking. Calling it my Assistant helped them differentiate.”

 

Bofur shook his head, a disbelieving smile still stretching his face. “I’ll have to remember that for my lady friend - see if that’s just a District Shire thing or if Erebor is the only one any sense regarding the naming of implements of torture.”

 

Baggins snorted, but shot Bofur a sidelong look. “You have someone waiting back in District Ered Luin, then?”

 

“What? Oh, no, no.” Bofur ran his hand across the back of his neck and glanced around the camp again - _more to see if anyone was waking than to check for enemies this time_ \- while he tried to find the right words. “She hails from District Nimrais, a wanderer by trade. I don’t get to see her often, but when we’re together, you’ll never find a love more pure.”

 

Baggins was wearing a fond look again, but frowned after a moment. “Just when you’re together?”

 

Bofur shrugged. “Neither of us can give each other the life we really deserve. It’s not really safe for her to get too close to me and there’s not really that much room in her life for a wandering refugee. We’ve spent maybe...” He paused to think. “Maybe a full year together? If you add up all the little visits we’ve stolen?” Baggins’ started to look sad and Bofur was quick to shake his head. “Nah, don’t be like that - what we have shared is more than enough for the both of us and we’re never around each other long enough to wear out our welcome.”

 

Baggins frowned - _a worry wrinkle marring the smooth line of his forehead_ \- and tilted his head to the side. “As long as it works for you, I guess.” The worry wrinkle smoothed out, though, after a moment, and a faint smile returned. “What about the rest of them? I remember Ori saying that Bombur had a wife and children... Does anyone else have family?”

 

Bofur allowed himself another chuckle. “Oh, sure - we all do! Let’s see... Bombur has his girl and their three little ones. Bifur’s never really taken a shine to anyone romantically, actually.” He tilted his head to one side, searching his memories, before he shook it. “No one he ever let on about, any how. His mum and dad, our father’s brother and his wife, they’re in fair enough health. Took Bombur and me in after the Fall, or tried to, as best they could. They’ll be helping Bombur’s missus look after her younglings. Gloin’s wife and his boy - they’ll be helping her out, too.”

 

Bofur shifted, thinking about his mates and their kin. “The Lorisons are the only ones of their family to make it. Dori practically raised Ori himself, you know?” He paused when his gaze came to Balin and shifted a bit. “Balin and Dwalin, they’re father, Fundin, he’s around...” he made a motion with his hand, half forgetting that Baggins wouldn’t understand. “Somewhere. Their sister, though, -”

 

On the far side of the clearing, Thorin threw himself out of his bedroll and to his feet, pistol in hand. He gasped for breath, searching the darkness for whatever it was that’d been haunting him, and Bofur waited for him to lower his pistol before he called out.

 

“All clear, then?” Neither of them were idiots - _if there’d been something in the darkness, Bofur would’ve called the alarm already_ \- but helping his commander save a bit of face couldn’t hurt.

 

Thorin whipped around to face him and blinked at Baggins sitting next to him for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, all clear.”

 

Bofur nodded. “Good, good. Is it your shift already, then?”

 

Thorin tucked his weapon away and ran a hand over his face. He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “No, you still have twenty minutes. Is there any coffee left?”

 

Bofur tossed the thermos to him and motioned to the cab of the truck. “There’s more in there if you need it.”

 

Thorin nodded and opened the thermos. He finished off the rest of what it held, shook his head, and tossed the thermos back empty. “No, that should do it.”

 

Baggins slid off the hood of the truck and onto the ground. “I guess I’d, uh, I’d better try to get back to sleep, then.”

 

Thorin frowned and his eyes narrowed as he nodded curtly.

 

For a half a moment, Bofur wanted to tell Baggins not to take Thorin’s attitude personally, that fearless leader was prone to being rough at the edges on waking up, but it wasn’t his place - especially with Thorin standing right there. So he watched while Baggins fled back to his bedroll, instead, and promised himself he’d find a moment for the newcomer tomorrow.

 

Thorin approached, his movements stiff, to lean against the front of the truck. His eyes moved over each member of the company, then over each vehicle, before he met Bofur’s gaze again and Bofur startled. The cold anger wasn’t new - _Bofur’d seen him wake from enough terrors that he would’ve been more concerned if his leader hadn’t been angry_ \-  but the layer of despair that lay beneath was. It was a hopelessness and a sort of desperate panic that he’d never seen Thorin wear before and it unsettled something in the pit of Bofur’s stomach.

 

Bofur tilted his head in a silent question, but Thorin shook his head immediately, almost violently.

 

Bofur kept his peace, acted as if he hadn’t seen a thing, and scanned the darkness of the camp again. If it was almost three, then Thorin had gotten nearly five hours of sleep. It wasn’t great, especially with the terrors, but it wasn’t horrible either. It wasn’t as if there was anyone among them who didn’t have the terrors, anyway.

 

In twenty minutes he’d give Thorin report and find his own bedroll, but until then he could be quiet company for his friend.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“Shagrat, here. Report.”

 

“Borgu unit remains on task. Allied eyes reported exiled scum leaving Bree this A.M., heading east.”

 

“Was _he_ with them?”

 

“Unconfirmed. We sent a contracted unit to tail the scum along the East-West road and obtain an ID, but the last transmission sent was scrambled and further attempts to initiate radio contact have been unsuccessful.”

 

“Communications jam or bent gadgets?”

 

There was a pause. “Either are viable, sir.”

 

Shagrat narrowed his eyes at his com. “I must be getting some static at this end, Borgu. Repeat yourself.”

 

There was another pause. “I said either option was viable, sir. Lack of communication could be a signal interception or faulty equipment, sir. The contractors were using their own equipment.” The speaker’s voice was tight with tension. “It’s also possible that they were spotted and eliminated. Sir.”

 

“Tell me, Borgu,” Shagrat sneered. “How long ago did you lose contact with the contractors?”

 

“Fifteen minutes ago, sir.” There was a faint tremor to the voice that filtered through the coms now.

 

“Then why are you wasting your time telling me what you don’t know when you could be scrambling your unit to provide me with ACTUAL ANSWERS?” He snarled.

 

“Y - yes, sir! Sorry, sir! Wilco!”

 

“And Borgu?” Shagrat’s voice was calm again, almost kind. “If you fail in this, don’t bother calling. You’ll need to return to base camp to personally explain your lack of results to the Defiler.”

 

There was that pause again. “Y - yes, sir. Wilco.”

  
“Shagrat, over and out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... O.O ... I have just now realized that it has been about 3.5 to 4 months since we last posted!!! Omg! We are so so terrribly sorry for that! I've had a change in jobs (in which today was my first day full day off in a month) and Smalls has had a whole heap of RL stress on her lately, too! 
> 
> Are you all still having fun with the story? I hope this chapter has been worth the wait and I promise that we'll get the next chapter posted MUCH faster!


	12. Scrap and Schrapnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may not look it, but a soul can find anything in a pile of scrap, even - if necessary - a bit of courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Rumble and Sway by Jamie N Commons. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> (Also - most of our locations, including the Trollshaws featured in this chapter, can be found at that same sight - go check it out if you haven't already!)

“Take the east path in four. Ironside, over and out.”

 

Bilbo frowned and pulled the ear bud free, squinting down at its little knobs again and tried to figure out what direction to turn the volume dial.

 

“Adjusting it again?”

 

Ori was the one leaning forward to ask, but Fili was watching them with drowsy eyes. At least his brother was still asleep.

 

Bilbo nodded. “Too quiet this time. It doesn’t help that I don’t have my glasses and we’re losing the light.”

 

He frowned at the tiny machine and rubbed at his ear while Ori took the device from him. The youth produced a flashlight and what looked to be a mini screwdriver - _how he balanced the three items without dropping anything, Bilbo didn’t know_ \- before he set to working on it.

 

“It’s still irritating you?” Fili’s voice was rough with sleep, but low in deference to his brother. He blinked slowly and Bilbo was reminded of the image of a lazing cat.

 

Bilbo nodded, but it was Dori who spoke next. “They’re like that sometimes, especially the older models. It’ll take some time to get used to, but once you do, you’ll be loathe to upgrade.”

 

Bilbo gave him a rueful grin and shook his head. “I’m hoping that I won’t be needing it that long. With my luck, we’ll be about finished with this whole mess by the time I finally adjust to the damn thing.”

 

Dori gave a sympathetic chuckle and shook his head as well.

 

Bilbo found himself quite fond of Dori already. The eldest Lorison was polite, knew how to put a person at ease, and could more than hold a proper conversation. Bofur was another one that Bilbo enjoyed talking with, even if he was a bit more coarse. He was a friendly fellow, and Bilbo knew he had good intentions, but he also had a very particular brand of mischief - particular enough that it was easy to see who Fili and Kili had been taking lessons from.

 

Ori reached over the seat to hand the com back to Bilbo. “I’ve set it at four for volume this time and I’ve tightened up the casing a bit, so hopefully that will help with the discomfort.” He watched while Bilbo dutifully replaced the small torture device back into his ear. “If it’s still too loud, we might have to bounce it between three and four, depending on the ambient noise.” The boy frowned as he spoke, tapping the screwdriver at the corner of his mouth. “I could give a try at taking it apart and creating a setting between the two, but it’s not the best idea until we can get ahold of another com. Just in case.”

 

Bilbo smiled and shook his head. “No, that’s alright - we’ll try this out for now. Thank you, for your help.”

 

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Ori grinned and shook his head, sitting back in his seat. “Gives me something to think on for when I need to give my gadgets a rest.”

 

Dori had turned off the main road while Bilbo had been talking with Ori and, when Bilbo looked up again, he was surprised to see that they were approaching an old, rusted fence. It stretched in either direction for a good ways, interrupted at increments by collapsed and crumpled structures that might’ve served as guard towers in a younger day. It certainly wasn’t a sight that suggested the place might be safe to stay at.

 

Bilbo blinked. “Um.” He shifted and sent a sidelong glance at Dori, who looked just as skeptical of the place as he did. “This... it’s just to throw others off?”

 

Dori pressed his lips together and his grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten for a moment before he relaxed again. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “All of us have a collection of ... safe places that we can turn to if things become... unpleasant. It’s likely that Thorin or one of the others came across this place in their travels.” He paused. “Thorin wouldn’t be leading us here if he wasn’t confident that it was safe.”

 

Bilbo nodded. He didn’t say anything, but he did roll up the windows again and Dori was kind enough to turn on the air before Bilbo could ask him to.

 

They followed the broken asphalt as it wove among the charred hulls and broken faces of a number of abandoned buildings before arriving at the derelict ruin of what Bilbo assumed was a hangar. Dori slowed the vehicle to a stop alongside where the rest of the company had parked and both he and Bilbo took a moment to peer out the windows and up at the building in front of them.

 

The walls were rusted, but still standing, and the ceiling looked to be mostly solid. There were piles of what looked like mostly garbage and scrap metal littering the floor of the place. Some piles rather more resembled actual machines and vehicles than others, but there was certainly nothing that looked useful.

 

Bilbo sent Dori another look, and though Dori hesitated, he shrugged. “Bofur has a good eye for these things. He won’t let us stay the night if he thinks there’s any chance of the building collapsing on us as we take our rest.”

 

Bilbo nodded. He could trust in that. Bofur did seem to have a sharp eye for things. All the company did, with the way that he watched them having two or three conversations all at once - _although what any of them really meant Bilbo couldn’t ever say_ \- but he suspected Bofur to be of the sort that nothing ever surprised and, somehow, Bilbo found the thought remarkably comforting now.

 

“Foxhound Alpha, Bravo,” Thorin’s voice came over the com again. Bilbo startled at the suddenness, but was relieved to find the volume much more agreeable. “You’re with the cleaning crew.” Kili gave a whoop - _entirely too loud in the small space of the vehicle_ \- before he and his brother tumbled out and made their way towards where the others were gathering. “Shoemaker and Shelldrake, you know what to do. The rest of you sit tight, we won’t be long.”

 

Ori laughed a bit and shared a look with Dori before he too slid out of the transport. Dori exited the vehicle as well, heading to where Thorin stood speaking with Bofur and Balin.

 

Bilbo slipped free of the cursed machine and took advantage of everyone’s distraction to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He was learning how to manage his travel sickness, but it was still a relief to be out of the vehicle.

 

When he opened his eyes again, one group - _Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Fili, Kili and who he was pretty sure was Bifur and Nari_ \- was heading off in one direction - _wearing quite a bit more weaponry than Bilbo felt comfortable with_ \- and another group - _Bombur and was his name Goin?_ \- headed in another.

 

Unsure of what else to do, Bilbo made his way over to the rest of the company to see if he could be helpful. Ori was already typing away at his portable when Bilbo reached him, and Dori and Balin were speaking quietly about something or other, so it was to Oin that Bilbo turned to for answers.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

Oin glanced at him then turned his attentions back to the mouth of the hangar. “Oh, aye, everything’s fine. Gloin and Bombur are just checking the perimeter and the others are scouting out the rest of the area to make sure there aren’t any surprises waiting for us to fall asleep.”

 

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked and nodded. That made a lot of sense. “Right, then. Is there anything I should be doing?” He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be of much use to anyone, but he did want to offer to help, at least. He was willing to work and a quick study.

 

Oin shook his head, though, and leaned against the front of one of the transports, arms crossed. “Nah, best just to get comfortable and let the lads do what they do best. They’ll send word if anything goes awry.”

 

Bilbo nodded and, after a moment, leaned against the same vehicle as Oin. When abroad, do as the natives do.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

"Oi, Bert!"

 

Bert jerked awake with a snarl. "Wasn't sleepin'!"

 

Tom nodded quickly. "I know that, Bert, you'd never sleep on the job.”

 

Bert narrowed his eyes at Tom for a minute before he relaxed and nodded as well. “That’s right. It’s not my fault the higher-ups can’t tell the difference between a man sleepin’ and one who’s thinkin’ hard.” He gave a wounded sniff and stretched before he turned to Tom again. “Well, what is it you’re wanting, anyway?”

 

Tom blinked and frowned. He looked at the consol he’d been sitting at and then smiled again. “Oh! That’s right! Got something odd happening down at the southern hangar.”

 

Bert stood and took a moment to grimace while his joints cracked and popped before he made his way over to Tom’s station. “What’s this now?”

 

“There’s something odd happening. I mean, look at all them people.” Tom tapped one of the screens. “I don’t think any of them are supposed to be poking about in there.”

 

“Oi! What are you lot jawing on about?” William leaned against the frame of the door, shirt untucked and sneer firmly in place. “A fellow can’t sleep with all the racket you two are making.”

 

Bert whipped around to glare at William.

 

He and William were about the same build, but William was taller - just barely but he was. Bert outranked William, though, and while William might not be afraid of Bert, he sure as hell was afraid of Rook, who outranked all three of them. It was Rook who’d sent them out to this Valar-forsaken forest pit and it was Rook who’d put Bert in charge. That meant William could listen to Bert and be respectful or he could explain to the unit medic why Rook had turned all his insides into outsides.

 

William narrowed his eyes right back, but he hadn’t said anything rude, so there wasn’t anything Bert could do about it.

 

Bert motioned to the screen Tom had tapped. “Tom found some intruders poking around where they ain’t supposed to.”

 

William frowned and moved up to look at the screen over Tom’s shoulder. “They got permission?”

 

“No, they’re intruders - ain’t no one gave them permission for anything.” Bert scratched at his chin. “Let’s just watch them a bit and see what they get up to, yeah? Oi, you think you can get the audio working in that area? Maybe move some of the cameras a bit for a better angle?”

 

“Don’t matter how much he pivots them cameras - most of where they’re settin’ up is gonna be blocked by the crap that’s just sittin around in there.” William gestured at the screen. “Like that turret, there. Can’t move the camera around that.”

 

Tom frowned and looked at the terminal, trying to remember which buttons went to what. “No no, I think I might be able to move the machines, too.” He pushed a button, and while it didn’t move the turret that blocked the screen that William had pointed to, it did make seeing from a different camera easier. “See? I can control most of the turrets and some of the machines from here. Most of them aren’t in half as bad shape as they look, you know. Could probably salvage at least half of this stuff, if we could get a few replacement parts in and -”

 

“Shut it.” Bert was grinning when he said it, though, so Tom knew he didn’t mean to be rude. “I want those microphones online and lets get all the cameras we have focused on this lot. Looks like we’ve finally got ourselves a bit of live entertainment!”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“No, no - go ahead and add the juice, too.”

 

Bilbo fished his com out of his ear and tucked it into a coat pocket with a frown. He looked down at the juice that remained at the bottom of the can before he raised an eyebrow at Bombur. “Wouldn’t it be better to just add stock instead? Or bouillon?”

 

Bombur shook his head. “We don’t have any to add.”

 

Bilbo startled. He was sure he was gaping, but couldn’t bring himself to care. “No bullion? I can understand not bringing stock, with all that liquid weight it would get heavy fast, but no bouillon?” How could someone not bring bouillon on what was sure to be such a long journey?

 

Bombur didn’t seem to be offended, though. “It still takes up space and it’s not necessary - not really.” Bilbo knew he was making a face, now, because Bombur laughed. “It does. It doesn’t weigh much, but it takes up space that could be used to bring other things, more useful things - like bullets.”

 

Bilbo blinked and nodded, but wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. Bullets instead of bouillon, indeed! Still, he wasn’t the one experienced in living on the road so he told himself it was best to take Bombur’s word on it.

 

He rubbed at the ear he’d had his com in and poured the can-juice into the pot, struggling to come up with a change in conversation. “So, uh, where exactly are we, anyway? Do we have to worry about anyone getting upset with us trespassing?”

 

Bombur chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, my, no. We’re safe here, or near enough.” He opened a bag of what looked to be dried mushrooms and added them into the pot while he had Bilbo stir. “No, these are the Trollshaws. We’re in what used to be a territory called Rhudaur - we’ve been traveling through it for a good part of the day, actually. This base, from what we can gather, was built toward the end of the Great War - used to house weapons and machinery near the front lines of some battle or other. The front lines were pushed back, though, and Rhudaur - could you pass me the dried onions? No, the other bag - yes, thank you! Anyway, the front lines were pushed further and further back and Rhudaur started suffering heavy damage. By the time the Great War was over, not enough of the territory had survived for anyone to remember a small, out of the way base like this one. Most of the equipment here hasn’t been moved or touched in over a hundred years!” Bombur smiled and gazed at the ruins that surrounded them, a fond look in his eyes. “Mostly what the rest are looking for is vagrants or signs that other folk are already occupying other parts of the compound.” He tasted the stew and nodded to himself before shrugging at Bilbo. “We have more to fear from the roof falling in than anyone attacking us, usually, and Bofur’s already declared the structure sturdy enough to last us through tonight.”

 

Bilbo nodded, entranced. “So, if the base was forgotten, then how do you know to call it the Trollshaws?”

 

Bombur laughed. “That’s just our pet name for it. Bifur found the place near a decade or so ago. Said it was set deep in the woods, but that there were these clumps of oddly shaped rocks scattered about the place.” He gave the pot another stir and then set the ladle aside. “They looked like some sort of large, humanoid folk that’d been petrified, he’d said, and sure enough, they did! We got to joking about trolls caught in the sunlight and it wasn’t long after that that this place was called the Trollshaws.” He shared a grin with Bilbo. “The younger ones especially love the name.”

 

Bilbo chuckled. “I bet they did!”

 

The pair sat back and chatted while they let the stew simmer. Biblo was delighted to have some insight into the history of the area and Bombur seemed happy to share what he knew. By the time the stew was about ready to serve, Thorin and the rest of the group had returned with the news that the company had the ruins to themselves.

 

The stew was served up in simple metal bowls and while Bilbo could’ve named a half dozen different odds and ends he’d have liked to add to it, no one else voiced any complaints so he kept his thoughts to himself.

 

Bilbo had just tucked into his meal, paying half a mind to the descriptions Fili and Kili were giving Ori about the area beyond the hangar, when Thorin’s vid com began to chime. The lads all quieted momentarily before sharing a knowing grin and Gloin seemed to laugh at Thorin, but no one else paid it any mind.

 

Bilbo observed as Thorin answered the vidcom with a wince and a sigh. He happened to catch Bilbo watching him as he spoke with the person on the other end of the line and Bilbo wasn’t sure how he felt as he saw a mischievous glint appear in the other man’s eyes. He was quite sure it wasn’t a good thing once Thorin began to make his way toward Bilbo, and even more so when Thorin shoved the vid com at him.

 

“It’s for you,” Thorin kept his voice low, wearing a near-smirk. “Best not to keep her waiting.”

 

And just like that, Bilbo found himself with plenty of elbow room.

 

Fili and Kili were now sitting outside the hangar, perched on the hoods of the vehicles with their meals in hand, chatting away with Ori, and the rest of the company was suddenly preoccupied with laying out bedrolls or scavenging the nearby machinery for spare parts - Nori and Dwalin were even making their way to the top of a pile of scrap that Bilbo was sure couldn’t be stable.

 

“Hello? Hello?! Thorin Durinson, are you still there? If you don’t answer me, I swear, by the Maker, I will shave -”

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he hastily brought himself into camera view and activated the video feed. “Um, no, no! No shaving, please!” The video feed took a moment to stabilize, but it wasn’t even another moment before he realized who he was speaking to. “Dis!”

 

“Bilbo?!” Dis looked a bit leaner than she did the last time Bilbo had seen her, but she looked healthier overall and every bit as fair as he recalled. “What are you doing there?! Where’s Thorin?!”

 

Bilbo glanced about, but couldn’t catch sight of his appointed leader. “Um, I’m with the lads, uh, doing the thing...” How much was he allowed to say about the mission? Was this even a secure line? “You know, the usual. I’m not sure where Thorin is, at the moment, but he’s, uh, not in sight just now.”

 

“You poor thing!” Dis offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay to talk, just don’t mention anything too specific, especially about location.” Her grin grew then as her eyes moved over him. “Still, it’s been an age since we last spoke! Why didn’t you ever call me?”

 

“Ah! None of that, now!” Bilbo gave her a stern look. “You could’ve called just as easily.”

 

“That’s true, I suppose.” Dis had the grace to look abashed for a moment or two before her grin returned. “How are you, though? I see my brother has managed to talk you into coming along. Are you doing okay? Are my boys behaving?”

 

Bilbo laughed. “Oh, it’s good to see you!” He was surprised at how glad he was to have the chance to speak with someone familiar. He glanced around the area and saw a path that seemed to lead out of the way. “I’ll fill you in on everything, but let me find somewhere with fewer ears.”

 

She agreed, voice full of mirth, and Bilbo began to make his way away from the rest of the group.

 

“Don’t go far!” Dori called out.

 

“Keep your com with you!” Bofur added.

 

Bilbo patted his breast pocket absently, ensuring the small torture device was still safe, before he nodded and waved his assurances to his new friends. He waited until he couldn’t hear any of them conversing before he slowed his pace and returned his attentions to the the vid com again.

 

“So, what’s happened?” Dis’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “If Thorin didn’t want to discuss it with me himself, it has to be something terrible!”

 

Bilbo didn’t fight his grin. “What do you know about the Sharly incident?”

 

Dis’ eyes widened. “The what incident?”

 

“Oh my, this will take a moment to tell.” Bilbo shook his head. “Well, it started not long after we got settled in Bree...”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“Oh, he’s a sick bastard, he is.”

 

“What? Which one?” William squinted at the monitors and frowned.

 

Tom let out an exasperated sigh and flicked his finger at the screen he was watching. “Slim Jim. He’s a sick fuck.” William nodded even as he looked over. William was decent enough. He was stupider than a sack of rocks, but at least he knew who his betters were. Not like Bert. “Look at him picking at his toe nails with that knife!”

 

“And what’s wrong with that?” William’s disgusted head shaking paused as Bert spoke up. “I seen you clean out your fingernails with your knife plenty of times.”

 

Tom scowled. Never mind that they were all technically the same rank - give that man a new title and suddenly he was too good for the rest of them.

 

“Well, that was my fingers, wasn’t it?” He scoffed. “A man keeps his hands clean - he knows where they’ve been. Feet are naturally filthy. What’s he gonna use to cut up his food now? How’s he gonna clean up that knife to use it for field work? The answer is he can’t and if he does he’s an animal.”

 

William nodded again, but Bert just rolled his eyes.

 

“Hey, where’d Beef Jerky go?”

 

Tom looked back to the screen.

 

“We’ve got Bon bon, Grumbles and Gramps over by the fire.” William pointed to one screen, then to another. “Giggles is over by the trucks with Mom and Dad and Gizmo and Gizmo Jr are over by that all terrain tank messing with the wires. Then we have Milly and Vanilly over here, just out of everyone’s sight - they’re getting up to something, I tell you. Slim Jim is sittin’ up on the reinforced bus pickin’ at his toes, but where’s his boyfriend?”

 

“He’s up here, talking to Pretty Boy. Besides,” Bert frowned. “Beef Jerky and Slim Jim aren’t together.”

 

William scratched at his head. “But I thought they were. A man just doesn’t go grabbing on another man like that unless they’re being all intimate.”

 

Tom blinked. That was a big word for William.

 

“You go through enough battles with someone and nothing is sacred,” Bert scoffed. “Look at how close Beef Jerky and Pretty Boy are sitting together? See the way they look at each other? If anyone is together with anyone in this unit, then it’s going to be Beef Jerky and Pretty Boy.”

 

Tom laughed. “No, it’s even better - Beef Jerky is fucking both of them and they don’t know it.”

 

Bert made a nasty face. “That’s not even possible. You can’t sneeze in a unit that size and not have everyone knowing all the particulars.”

 

“Not if you’re not willing to put in the effort, you can’t.” Tom offered him a nasty grin. “But with the right set up and the proper motivation -”

 

“But what about Milly and Vanilly?”

 

Bert and Tom both looked blankly at William.

 

“What about them?” Bert asked.

 

“Well, you mentioned that if anyone was together with anyone it was Pretty Boy and Beef Jerky, but I think that Milly and Vanilly are both chasing after Gizmo Jr.”

 

Bert shook his head. “No, no - Dilly and Billy might be interested in Jr, but there’s no way Mom would allow that. Have you seen how often he checks on where Jr is? Entirely too paranoid about that lad. Besides, two lads chase after the same ass? There’s no way Pretty Boy would allow that - the moment it gets ugly, the whole unit is compromised.”

 

“First of all, they’re nicknames are Willy and Nilly.” Tom spoke up. “Second, you both have it wrong. Willy and Nilly are both going after Jr - together.” He paused to watch their confusion. “Isn’t it obvious? Those two have no sense of personal space with each other and it doesn’t look like they’ve been more than ten feet away from each other since they got here. They even went together to take a piss! They’re working together to catch Jr - they’re going to share him.”

 

“What?!” Bert’s face was caught between shock and outrage. “What kind of pervert are you that you come up with this sort of shit? And we already decided that those two were Dilly and Billy.”

 

“Dilly and Billy is stupid. Willy and Nilly are much better names.” Tom insisted. Bert was grinding on his last nerve.

 

“I like Milly and Vanilly,” William spoke up. “Sir.”

 

“Milly and Vanilly is idiotic,” Tom snarled. “The only thing stupider is Dilly and Billy! What kind of nicknames are you two coming up with? And it’s perfectly natural for three or more people to have a relationship, you bigot!”

 

“As long as everyone’s okay with it,” William nodded his agreement. “Otherwise it’s just cheating, like Beef Jerky.”

 

Bert stared at William for a moment, disbelief all over his face, before muttering something about perverts and morons. “Fine, we’ll settle this. Pull up their files. There has to be something about interpersonal relationships in their files.”

 

William shook his head. “Can’t. It’s not done processing yet.”

 

Bert blinked. “Say that again?”

 

William looked over at a smaller screen and tapped a few keys, then shrugged at Bert. “Says it’s not done processing. The facial recognition hasn’t come up with anything yet.”

 

Tom started laughing.

 

Bert glared at him, but turned back to William. “Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

William scratched at the back of his head. “The computers are old as dirt and some of the cameras don’t focus well. I didn’t think anything was wrong.”

 

“Well, you thought wrong,” Bert snapped. “Fuck, you lot have been fussing over nicknames and who’s with who when we could’ve been been listening for their names or where they’re from or -”

 

Tom was up and in Bert’s face before he could stop himself. “Don’t you pull that fucking shit! You’re the one arguing about who’s name is what - getting your unders in a twist about who’s fucking each other!”

 

“You better watch yourself,” Bert snarled. “It’ll only take one call to Rook -”

 

“That’s right! Run back to Rook with your tail between your legs!” Tom felt a malicious grin curl his mouth. “How many blow jobs did it take to win his favor? Did you have to swallow? Or did he let you -”

 

“Oi! Thorin!”

 

The observation room got so quiet so fast that Tom’s ears rang with the sudden lack of noise.

 

“Thorin! Get over here and give me a hand with pulling this camshaft loose!”

 

There was only one man in all of Middle Earth called Thorin. Everyone knew that.

 

Tom met William’s eyes, then Bert’s.

 

“Call Rook.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“He didn’t!” Dis managed to catch enough of her breath to gasp out the question.

 

“He did.” Bilbo grinned to see her smiling, laughing - it made her look younger. “He seduced that woman, and possibly her lover - it depends on who you ask - into following him upstairs to the room where Nori was waiting and then the two of them, and I quote, ‘severed the head of the snake,” whatever that means.” He shook his head and glanced briefly around the hall - _there was a turn up ahead_ \- to make sure he wasn’t going to be tripping over anything. “I’m afraid I wasn’t there for any of it myself, though, and I didn’t have a com just then, so I have to take everyone else’s word on the matter.”

 

“Valar’s mercy,” she giggled. Then her expression changed and though her smile didn’t dim any, her eyes glinted with a dangerous light. “I’ll skin him alive, I think.”

 

“That’s terribly merciful of you, allowing him to live like that.” He nodded his approval. Thorin, what Bilbo had seen of him so far, seemed like the sort of man that was always in control of his situation, almost untouchable, in a way. The idea of him hanging his head and scuffing his feet as his sister scolded him was an amusing one.

 

“I think so,” Dis nodded imperiously. “I can’t believe him! Allowing my boys to come into contact with that... that whore! And her delinquents!”

 

Bilbo laughed softly. “He certainly is a quick thinker, though, to come up with a maneuver like that as quickly as he did - to communicate it to everyone well enough for everything to go as smoothly as it did.” He hesitated. “That could’ve gone terribly wrong so quickly and I wouldn’t have been the wiser.”

 

Her expression softened. “They would have protected you, you know.” He couldn’t name the expression she was wearing now, only that it was soft. “Besides, half of the maneuvers he uses he learned from from his men.”

 

“And the other half?”

 

Dis looked away from the screen and her smile became rueful. “Gyda, Gyda Fundinson.”

 

Bilbo startled, but kept his silence.

 

“Youngest of the Fundinson children and my best friend, growing up. The Fundinsons are close to our family in general, as you can tell, but Thorin and Gyda... they were... especially close.” Her voice faltered, but she cleared her throat. “She taught Thorin most of what he knows of trickery.”

 

“Most?” Bilbo kept his voice to a gentle tease. His mind flashed to what he knew of Balin and Dwalin and wondered why this Gyda had never been mentioned before.

 

“Well, Frerin and I were able to teach him some, but he’s thick headed. Only Gyda ever really seemed to have the patience to teach him anything meaningful.”

 

Bilbo offered another smile as he followed the curve of the hall, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips.

 

Up ahead, spilling out from one of the endless doorways lining the hall he’d been strolling down, was a light. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he could hear voices, as well.

 

“Bilbo?” Dis’ voice, barely above a whisper, startled Bilbo into releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

 

“I, uh,” He glanced between the open doorway and his friend’s image on the vidcom several times. “There’s a light coming from the doorway up ahead.” He was trying to keep his voice low and calm, but he couldn’t help the nervous sweat he’d broken out in. Half the company had crawled over this base. The light - _and voices_ \- were probably nothing to worry about.

 

“Bilbo? Bilbo, look at me.”

 

Bilbo looked down at the vid com again and was so grateful for the reassuring look on Dis’ face.

 

“Are there people up ahead?”

 

He nodded. “I think so.” He moved so that he was leaning against the same wall as the door was in and tried to calm his racing heart. “Should I... should I go back?”

 

Dis opened her mouth to say something, but one of the voices chose that particular moment to speak up. “Thorin Durinson! Is that enough of an emergency to bother the captain?!”

 

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. When he looked back at the vid-com, Dis’ eyes were wide and her mouth was shut again. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I’m just going to... I’m going to move closer and try to figure out what’s going on.”

 

The look in Dis’ eyes was close to panic, but she didn’t try to dissuade him. “Keep the link open and don’t be a hero, okay?”

 

Bilbo nodded and inched his way closer to the door.

 

“Damnit, Rook - you can skin the three of us and nail our hides to your door later! We have Durinson here!”

 

There was another voice, loud and angry, but garbled by what had to be a horrible connection.

 

“Well, no, the damn facial recognition hasn’t I.D.’d him yet, but it’s been running for the last half hour and hasn’t found anything on any of these mongrels. The tech out here is from the first age, but it’s not that slow!”

 

The angry voice spoke more, but seemed less upset this time.

 

“Can we mess with ‘em a bit?” That was a new voice and there was an eager note to it that Bilbo didn’t like at all. “Not Durinson, of course, but the others? Some of the equipment still works a bit and I just thought -”

 

The garbled voice interrupted the new voice with what was either a reprimand or a warning, judging by the tone, and then the first voice spoke again. “We’ll patch through what video we’ve collected so far and make sure they don’t have the chance to run, but I know this is Durinson.”

 

The other voice snarled something else and then it got quiet. Bilbo had reached the door frame by this time and had been debating peeking around the edge of it to try to get an idea of what they were dealing with. He had leaned forward just far enough to get a flash of an image before a board under his foot creaked and he yanked himself away from the opening fast enough to set off a vicious twinge in his neck.

 

“What was that?”

 

There was a long pause, in which Bilbo slapped one hand over his mouth to keep from making any other sounds and the other clung to the vid com to ensure he wouldn’t drop it.

 

“Just the rats, prob’ly. William - you get to work on patching Rook through on the feeds. Bert? You help me figure out just how much give these turrets will actually have.”

 

There was the sound of movement and repositioning before the eager voice spoke again. “Alright, let’s see what color blood these vermin have!”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Kili sat on his bedroll, his cleaning kit in his lap and his pistol laid out in pieces on the ground before him. He was grinning so hard his cheeks were beginning to hurt and a quick glance told him that Fili - _flanking Ori’s other side_ \- was still smiling, too.

 

It was still hard to believe that Uncle had taken them along on the sweep, but Kili certainly wasn’t going to question his motives. The place was huge, with hundreds of rooms and so much equipment - _still useful_ \- that had been left for scrap that he couldn’t blame Bifur and the Kafursons for keeping such a treasure to themselves. It was like an investment - somewhere safe to hide if they needed to lay low and a guaranteed source of income if they couldn’t find anything else.

 

He reached across Ori to take the gun oil from his brother and blinked when his friend barely shifted.

 

He shared a look with Fili, who had noticed the distracted state Ori was in as well.

 

Fili only tilted his head, glanced at the monitor of the portable and shrugged.

 

Kili nodded. Ori did tend to get caught up in his work.

 

Still, it wouldn’t do to let the technophile go thinking that he could just ignore them like that, so he “accidently” bumped into Ori’s arm - just enough to make sure his presence was acknowledged.

 

Ori cussed and blinked and spared an irritated glance for Kili, who beamed at the attention. He frowned when Ori only turned back to his portable - _with a muttered curse about flags_ \- and flinched when a burst of static hit his com.

 

He fished his com out and rubbed at his injured ear while listening to his brother’s huffing laugh. He replaced the com again and gave Ori a cautious look. If his friend’s work was that important, Kili would just leave him to it, then.

 

Kili turned to give his attention back to his dissembled pistol - _mulling over whether he wanted to clean the bits and pieces Dwalin’s way or Gloin’s way today_ \- when a bit of movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

 

Kili tilted his head and watched as a gun turret, perched on a decrepit bit of tank that would never move under its own power again, seemed to shift and change it’s angle.

 

He glanced around at the other equipment and didn’t see anything else moving, then glanced at Fili, who was already staring at the same machine that had caught his eye.

 

Kili made a low noise in his throat and waited for Fili to make a similar sound before he spoke. “Did that little mechanized bit up there just move?”

 

Fili’s eyes narrowed and he repeated the sound he’d made before. They both watched as first one machine gun, then another, moved and readjusted in small increments until each one was focused on the area the Company had set up camp in. None were targeting any member of the Company directly - _yet_ \- but it was still worrisome.

 

Kili met Fili’s eyes over Ori’s hunched, typing form and knew that if they were going to warn everyone then they had to at least keep up the charade of not knowing what was going on. So Kili looked back down at his dissembled pistol, trying not to rush as he cleaned the pieces and reassembled it, and as he did, Fili started to whistle. Kili took up the tune after a moment, as well, and while an outsider wouldn’t have noticed the pause each member of the company gave before joining in on the seemingly impromptu tune, Kili took notice.

 

Kili only faltered in his whistling when he saw another old weapon, a submachine gun, turn to point directly at him, Ori and Fili.

 

Ori, of course, chose that particular moment to come out of his typing frenzy. “Oh, fuckle sauce -”

 

But then Fili knocked Ori into Kili and there wasn’t even enough time to catch his breath before the air around them was consumed in a roaring blast.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Bilbo sat just outside the door to where three monsters were firing at his friends and struggled to think of what he could do to make them stop. He’d only had one glance at the room, but he didn’t think there was another door leading out. He didn’t have any weapons - _or any skill, even if he had weapons_ \- and all three of the thugs in there were probably armed and were definitely big enough to beat him easily in hand to hand.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Dis’ eyes were wide and her jaw trembled but her voice was steady even as she kept her volume low. “Those are my boys down there. I know that you’re not trained for this, but they’re relying on you to help them. Are you with me? Are you okay?”

 

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, yes, I know.” He grit his teeth and tried to measure his breathing. “I know, I just... I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any weapons on me and I don’t know what to do.”

 

Explosions and the sounds of bullets impacting on metal continued to pour out from the room. Between the low quality of the speakers and the way the men inside were laughing and cheering, it would’ve been easy for Bilbo to believe that they were just watching a vid-novel or playing a battle simulation, but knowing that those sounds meant his friends were under attack - it was almost enough to make him nauseous.

 

“Okay, that’s fine. We’ll figure out something,” Dis spoke again and Bilbo wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure. “You’re on Thorin’s vid-com - is there any way you can search it to see if he has any video files about this place?”

 

Bilbo nodded again, almost weak with relief at having something to do. He minimized the conference window and tried to explore the other files on the device, but realized quickly that his efforts were useless.

 

“I don’t understand the language he has everything written in.”

 

He pulled the conference window up in time to see Dis curse and shake her head. “It’s code, in case he’s ever captured.” She closed her eyes and brought her hands up to her mouth.

 

Bilbo was tempted to shut his own eyes again, but wasn’t sure he could afford to. If he just had someone he could ask for help. Dis was on the vid com with him, but she didn’t know where he was, couldn’t offer much in the way of advice. If he had someone who knew of the place, someone he could call on the vid com...

 

He slapped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from shouting with relief. “Gandalf,” He grinned, whispering to Dis, even as he started input the code to contact the old man directly. “If anyone can help us, it’s Gandalf.”

 

As he inputted the last digit of the code, he prayed that he was right

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Ori gasped for breath and tried to clutch at his arm.

 

“Foxhound Alpha and Bravo here, Pronto’s with us but he’s been hit, over.”

 

He heard the words over the com, but they came from next to him, as well. Everything was so loud. They were under attack and the sound of metal on metal was so thunderous that the only thing keeping it from becoming overwhelming was the fire that was trying to consume his upper arm.

 

“Repeat, Alpha, Bravo and Pronto accounted for, and one with a flesh wound. Currently pinned with no chance for relocation, over.”

 

Ori focused on breathing and not crying out. His portable. He had to find his portable, but Fili was holding him down while sparks rained down around them.

 

“Roger that. Who else is injured, over?” Thorin’s voice - hard to hear over all the gunfire.

 

“Prophet present. I’ve been hit by some shrapnel, but nothing to fuss over.” That was Dori. He sounded... off. His voice was too tight. Did he just say he’d been hit?

 

“Overlord, here. Under heavy fire, but safe so far.” Balin’s voice. “Does anyone have eyes on the enemy?”

 

Ori had been on his portable before the attack. It had taken him entirely too long to notice all the red flags that had been raised - to see all the warnings that had been sent to him about someone trying to ID their faces, their voices. He’d been trying to trace the source of the ID request when he’d been hit. Someone knew where they were, the enemy knew where they were and and then he’d been hit -

 

“Confirmed,” Gloin’s voice called out. “Shelldrake and Starlight present and uninjured, but stuck in a Valar damned tank! Someone’s got remote controll over all those weapons we didn’t care about leaving lyin’ all over the place!”

 

Somewhere there was a loud sound - _too loud, like a roar or a crash_ \- and then the whole place was flooded with clouds of dust and smoke and Ori started coughing.

 

“If you’re fussing about being out of the worst of the weather, then I’ll trade cover with you.” Dwalin was laughing. “It’s almost loud enough in here to be a party at Napalm’s place!”

 

The coughing jarred Ori’s arm and the fire in it blazed hot enough to steal his breath away. He wanted to curl up over it, but Fili was still leaning over him, wouldn’t move even when Ori tried to wriggle free. He felt someone shifting closer to him and there was a hand on his hair briefly, on his face - _a wet hand_ \- he thought he heard Kili’s voice, but it was hard to hear, hard to know anything and why wasn’t Fili letting him up?

 

“Napalm and Minor, no injuries to report.” Nori. That was Nori’s voice. Nori was okay. “I bet Sharly’s looking pretty tame compared this this, eh Major?”

 

“Fuck you,” Thorin wasn’t really mad. He was ... was he scared? He wasn’t mad... “Someone get eyes on Boxwood!”

 

“I can’t see shit!” Kili was angry.

 

Ori whimpered. Kili’s voice was in his ear, but next to him, as well, and Ori didn’t know which was real and his head was pounding now and his fingers were starting to tingle.

 

“Shoemaker, here.” Shoemaker - that was Bombur’s handle. But the voice - that was Bifur’s voice, wasn’t it? Was Bifur using Bofur... Bombur’s handle? “I have Bluebell and Holdfast with me. I think Holdfast might be able to override this tank...”

 

“Well, hurry up! I’m about to be swiss cheese!” Nori’s voice was sharp, like his knives.

 

There was a brief whistle in the air and then something exploded near by. Ori heard small bits of something rain around them but he couldn’t feel anything. He knew Fili needed to take cover or he’d get injured, too, but the thought was too far away - he couldn’t figure out how to get it to his mouth.

 

“There must be a central control somewhere!” Dori’s voice was so strained.

 

Ori wanted to tell his oldest brother that it was okay, that he was okay and Oin would fix them all up in a moment, but he couldn’t reach his com.

 

“I’m sure there is but it’s not like any of us can just stroll down the hall to reach it right now, is it?!” Nori’s voice was so hateful. Why was he always so mean to Dori? Why couldn’t they just -

 

“Fuck, Holdfast’s been hit!” Bifur’s voice again, maybe. “Looks like a through and through.”

 

“No, I’m fine! I’m fine! I’ve nearly got it... Ha! Let’s light ‘em up!”

 

The sound of heavy artillery rounds against heavy steel was suddenly louder and Kili was snarling into the coms again. “Easy with that thing, we’re right here!”

 

Ori closed his eyes tighter and clenched his teeth against a scream that was building in his throat. Thorin and the others - they would figure out how to stop this. Any minute now, all the noise would stop and Oin would fix everyone up and they’d find somewhere safe and they’d all be okay. He just had to hold on a little longer.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“The door to the armory should be just ahead, now, my boy.”

 

Bilbo nodded, his eyes scanning the hallway for any signs of movement other than from himself. Gandalf had assured him that the only people present in the base were himself, the company, and the three guys in the room he’d left behind. Gandalf had access - _somehow_ \- to something that let him know these things and Bilbo trusted him, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop searching for other people, for more of the enemy.

 

He reached the door without running into trouble and, in a blur of nerves and coaching from Dis and Gandalf both, managed to force his way into the room.

 

Once inside, he froze. For a long moment all he saw was metal - _bits and pieces of various bits of metal of all different shapes and sizes_ \- but he was startled out of his daze when he realized that Dis was calling his name again.

 

“I’m sorry.” He tried to take a steadying breath but didn’t feel much steadier for it.

 

Dis, only taking up half the screen now, searched his face for something before she relaxed a bit and nodded. Gandalf only smiled in the same way he always did when he was worried but wanted to be reassuring.

 

“What - what should I grab? What do I look for?”

 

“Grenades.” There was an edge to Dis’ voice that startled Bilbo, and a glint to her eyes that could’ve been called feral. “You don’t have the training for anything else right now, so this will be the easiest and the safest thing for you to use. You’ll just pull the pin, toss it in and run for cover. It will eliminate both the men and the machines they’re using to hurt my boys.”

 

Bilbo found himself nodding even as he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He was going to have to kill them, to kill people. He could do it - he was going to have to at some point, he knew that, but he didn’t think he’d have to so soon and he wasn’t sure he was ready to -

 

Gandalf cleared his throat. “Look for the grenades, there should be some designed to stun in the same area.”

 

Bilbo blinked and nodded, too relieved for words.

 

“Flash bangs?! You think these monsters will be brought down with a simple flash bang?” Dis was angry, but she was directing it at Gandalf, allowing Bilbo to search for his weapons.

 

He nearly cheered when he found what he thought were the right ones, interrupting the argument they’d been having to double check that he was right.

 

“Yes, those are the ones,” Gandalf nodded and Dis confirmed it with a nod as well.

 

He was back down the hall an in position almost before he knew he was moving.

 

“You’ll want to get the door closed,” Dis was whispering just loud enough to be heard. “To have the best chance of knocking them out, rather than just stunning them, you’ll want to pull the pin, toss it in and shut the door as fast as you can. That will protect you from the effects, too.”

 

Bilbo nodded and set down the vid com gently. He reached into the pockets he had hastily filled and pulled out all four - what had Dis called them? - flashbangs.

 

He licked his lips and slid down the wall to where he could see - _and be seen by_ \- the vid com. “How many do I use?”

 

Dis’ eyes were glinting again. “How many do you have?”

 

Gandalf cleared his throat again. “I’d not use more than two. And be sure you’re ready to move before you pull those pin, my boy, do you understand?”

 

Bilbo nodded and tried to swallow, despite how dry his throat was. This wouldn’t kill them, he reminded himself. This was non-lethal and would only stun them, knock them out and then he could go into the room and stop the machines.

 

After moving three unconscious bodies out of the way.

 

Bilbo blinked. “What do I... what do I do with them? How long are they going to be.... asleep?”

 

Dis had pity on him. “You throw two of those in there, they’ll be out for a good while. Long enough for you to stop the weapons and for Thorin and the rest to come and deal with them. All you have to do is make sure you can access the controls - otherwise, just ignore them.”

 

Bilbo nodded again. He could do that. That didn’t sound too hard.

 

He moved away from the vid com, so that he was standing next to the door frame, and took a breath.

 

He eyed the door knob, trying to work out if it would be better to lunge for the thing or just calmly reach for it, and took another breath.

 

Bilbo held the two flashbangs - _awkwardly_ \- in one hand and gripped their pins in the other and took another breath.

 

And held it.

 

He felt distant from himself - as if he were watching himself pull the pins of both grenades in one fluid motion - as if he were watching himself step around the door frame, flinging the weapons into the room even as his free hand reached for the doorknob.

 

The door was closing even before the men inside realized that anything had been thrown at them.

 

Bilbo slammed the door shut, then lunged to where he left the vid com and covered his ears.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The sudden absence of noise was startling and unnerved Fili in a way that all the chaos and danger of being attacked hadn’t.

 

His own injuries were minor - he’d taken shrapnel damage to his back and his legs, some to his left arm, but it wasn’t as bad as being shot, or it wouldn’t be until the wounds were cleaning out. Near as he could tell, Kili had gotten away with the same, but at least poor Ori, who still cringed and half-struggled under him, hadn’t gotten any further injured. Kili was still stroking his face, not daring to even whisper. Fili held his position and panted - _heart pounding with adrenaline still_ \- refusing to let his best friend up until he heard the call for all clear.

 

The silence stretched on, punctuated from time to time by something falling or crashing elsewhere in the hangar. Gradually, Ori began to calm too and Kili looked up enough to meet Fili’s gaze, hope flickering in his eyes.

 

A burst of static and feedback got Fili’s heart pounding again, but the voice, and the words it spoke, had Fili nearly trembling with relief.

  
“Is everyone alive down there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I'm working about 50 hours a week at a job that's very extroverted when my inner introvert has been especially strong lately. I'm sorry for the long time between posts and I'm hoping that all the excitement (and violence) in this chapter helped to make up for it! Don't be afraid to review!


	13. Idée Fixe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would the victory still taste as sweet if he hadn't been anticipating it for so very long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Mercy by Hurts. Please remember that all artwork (by the lovely Smalls) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> (Also - most of our locations, including the Trollshaws featured in this chapter, can be found at that same sight - go check it out if you haven't already!)

Thorin closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

 

Without the gunfire, the silence rang too loud in the ruins they still squatted in. He was painfully aware of every step, cough, and hiss of pain that came from his company, of how the worst of it came from behind him.

 

Just a few feet away, Oin was giving instructions to Nori, who was attending to Ori even as Oin saw to Bofur.

 

Thorin had wanted to tell the older man that his instructions were useless - _that Nori had been an old hand at fishing out bullets when he was younger than Ori was now_ \- but it was likely that Oin’s mild voice and clinical instructions were helping to keep Nori calm at the moment, so he held his silence.

 

Thorin should be helping them, he knew this. He made for a horrible medic, but he was half decent at triage, and even if his help wasn’t needed, he’d sat at the bedside of enough friends and fellow soldiers to know how to lend comfort in times of pain.

 

He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t even look at Ori, who’d been shot for the first time in his life, or at Bofur, who he’d been through more battles with than he could count.

 

Thorin himself had led the scouting group, had assigned which areas to search and who was to search them. If something had been missed - _and obviously it had_ \- then it fell on him. He should’ve had Ori dig up a layout of the place or had Bofur examine the electrical systems - _and the equipment that they had bedded down with_ \- more thoroughly. He should’ve kept sending out smaller patrols after the initial sweep, too, until every inch of the cursed place had been checked twice.

 

Thorin grimaced and opened his eyes.

 

None of that mattered now. There was much that he could’ve - _should’ve_ \- done differently, but that didn’t change what had already happened. To be honest, there were also ways everything could’ve gone much worse and he was absurdly grateful that their injuries were so few.

 

Behind him, Ori whimpered and Thorin took that as his cue to remove himself from the room.

 

Helping his soldiers deal with pain, he could do. Standing about uselessly while they were put back together, he could not, especially when it was his own errors that had led to their injuries.

 

He watched the halls he moved through with a critical eye now, making note of where doors, damages and divides were located. Now that he knew that the wiring wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, he was able to pick out the functioning cameras from those non functioning and he entertained himself for a minute or two with trying to figure out how much funding and manpower he’d need to get the abandoned base up and running again.

 

It wasn’t long before his thoughts led him back to the circumstances surrounding their ambush.

 

Thorin thought of the shock that had ripped through him when he had first heard Baggins’ voice over the speaker system.

 

The surprise of it had been enough to leave everyone speechless, if only for a handful of moments. His company was a rowdy bunch, especially after near death. Even as they cheered and laughed, though, and even as they counted each other, Thorin had still been in shock.

 

Or perhaps shock was the wrong word.

 

Thorin had been relieved that Baggins was still alive, so relieved he’d been dizzy with the feeling of it. He had almost been more relieved to find Baggins alive than he had been to find all his men present and accounted for. There was guilt in that - in knowing that he could afford to lose the men that had become family to him more than he could afford to lose the man he still saw as a tool, a living key that he couldn't reclaim his home without.

 

He had been angry, too. Angry at Mágol, because of course he had a part in this, but at himself, as well, for not being more vigilant.

 

Three men could be overlooked. In the right circumstances, three men could be almost invisible. Thorin had led more unnoticed in missions of stealth and retrieval and there was no shame in being outwitted by those more clever and agile, but that was not the case this time.

 

Their enemy had been arrogant and dimwitted, bored and clumsy.

 

There was no explanation for the shitstorm that Thorin and his company had found themselves in other than that they’d been too lazy in their sweep.

 

Thorin reviewed who had been set to what task and made a note to speak to Balin again about the strengths and weaknesses of the company.  

 

He’d been so grateful for those who had chosen to follow him - _more grateful still with every offer that had been refused_ \- that he’d allowed himself to be too soft with them. He had lived beside these men, run missions and gotten drunk along side them. He knew these soldiers better than any others, but he couldn’t afford to let that cloud his judgement.

 

There was no room for error anymore. There was no funding to replace gear lost, no mission control to offer advice from afar, and not even a secondary team to pull them out if things went to shit. If Thorin and his company had any hope to survive this task without losing anyone, then he needed to be sure to utilise each and every person at his disposal to their fullest.

 

Thorin frowned. Perhaps he should bring Dori into the review as well, then. The man was going to give him an earful about the ambush no matter what he did now, but Dori saw things that neither he nor Balin could -

 

Thorin stopped himself - _physically_ \- mid thought.

 

It was the smallest glint of light that had caught his eye - something pale and shining in the dust and grey of the rubble. He was surprised that he was even able to spot it considering that there was still silt sifting down from the ceiling in this area.

 

He approached the object cautiously - _being caught with his pants around his ankles once in a night was more than enough for him_ \- but after he crouched down next to it, and managed to fish out his pocket light so he could actually see, he realized that it was an ear com.

 

He frowned and picked the small thing up, wondering at the good condition it was in. His unit had used this model extensively before he’d been able to get ahold of something better, but it was still excellent quality for its price. His company didn’t use this model anymore, of course, at least not except for...

 

“Tho- Mister Durinson? Is that you?”

 

There, standing at the end of the hall with Thorin’s vid-com still in his hands, was Baggins.

 

Baggins, who was the only one of any of Thorin’s unit to be assigned this model of ear-com. Baggins, who was currently going on about a weapons hoard and the three hostiles and excessive force. Baggins, who had never responded to any one over the coms after the attack started, or since calm had returned.

 

The anger Thorin had been fighting to hold back finally washed over him like it hadn’t in a long while. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

 

After a moment, he stood and shoved the discarded com into Baggins’ chest, ignoring that he was interrupting the smaller man while he struggled to push his anger at the whole situation aside for when he could handle things calmly.

 

He stepped around the Shireling and made his way down the hall, pulling free the zip ties he still had in his back pocket from the “Sharly incident”. The metallic twang that hung in the air grew stronger the closer he got to the control room and the three men strewn about the room were most definitely unconscious. They probably wouldn’t wake until after they left tomorrow, but it wasn’t a chance he was  willing to take.

 

He set about restraining the unconscious men and didn’t pause when he heard tentative footsteps approach and then stop behind him.

 

“They’ll be fine,” Thorin bit out. “They’ll be hurting for a while once they wake and they’ll likely have some hearing loss, but they’ll live.”

 

Baggins let loose a shaky breath and Thorin shook his head at himself.

 

It was easy to forget how soft Baggins was, how little conflict the man had been exposed to. The Shireling didn’t know how to use any firearms, didn’t know how to hold a knife - he didn’t even know how to punch right. Thorin hadn’t expected Baggins to have already killed - _Ori hadn’t, to his knowledge, and he didn’t think that Bombur had, either_ \- but it had never occurred to him that the man might not even have been in so much as a fist fight.

 

Thorin paused in his work and looked up at Baggins. He narrowed his eyes, trying to recall if he’d ever met anyone who’d lived so long seeing so little violence. If he had, it was in Erebor, before the fall, but he couldn’t bring to mind any faces that might fit that criteria.

 

Baggins shifted, clearing his throat, and Thorin pulled himself back to the present.

 

Movement in the hall, behind Baggins, had him tensing, but only long enough for him to recognize Balin and the others. The elder Fundinson lured the Shireling away from the room and Thorin turned back to his work.

 

When he felt confident that the enemy was contained well enough, Thorin stood and stretched, grimacing as his joints cracked and his muscles protested. He made his way back to the hallway, but took a moment to linger in the the doorway to watch his men and his charge.

 

Balin was speaking softly with Baggins, one hand on the scientist’s shoulder and his eyes gentle. The smaller man was trembling - _and Thorin frowned to think he had missed that detail earlier_ \- but seemed to calm a bit more with every response the two traded. Balin was good that way, able to soothe unsettled nerves even as he took note of injuries.

 

Gloin stood a few feet away, voice as loud and laughing as ever as he gushed over the condition of the equipment that had rained hell down upon the lot of them. His hands were shaking, too, but it didn’t look to be anything worth fussing over. Hopefully the adrenaline would wear off soon. Either that or he could trade with Fili and Kili for the first watch of the evening.

 

Dwalin seemed to be half listening to the artilleryman, but his attention was focused on tending to Nori’s wounds. Evidently none of the Lorisons had escaped damage, another point against him for when Dori eventually cornered him.

 

Nori was more generous with his words at the moment, but was paying, if possible, even less attention to Gloin than Dwalin was. Nori’s gaze was fixed blatantly on Baggins while his fingers twitched in his lap. It was that and a dozen other small tells that told Thorin that something that bothered the Lorison, something unexpected.

 

Baggins had done well enough, though, if Thorin was honest. Considering the scant training he’d had so far and especially considering that he’d been holed up safely in his burrow of a home in the stagnation of District Shire for the past handful of decades... Yes, loss of his com aside, Baggins had done well.

 

He approached Baggins, where he was still speaking to Balin, and said as much. He even placed a hand on the man’s shoulder - _as per Balin’s suggestion of a physical display of acceptance_ \- as he said it.

 

Baggins ducked his head. When he raised it again, he seemed a bit more calm than before.

 

“Oh - oh it was nothing.” Baggins smiled but there was still tightness around his eyes. “I did what I had to.” He shifted and shook his head. “Someone had to protect them - the boys, I mean. Fili and Kili and Ori - and the rest of the company, too, of course, but my boys - they were trapped down there and I just...”

 

If Baggins said anything more, it was lost to rush of blood suddenly filling Thorin’s ears.

 

“Listen, sweetheart. ” The voices around them quieted as he ground the words out. Thorin heard the echo of Baggins saying the words ‘my boys’ and thought he understood Dwalin’s urge to punch the smaller man better. “You were useful today. We appreciate that, but perhaps, if you can refrain from losing your ear-com, the next time we’re unexpectedly ambushed you’ll find the whole company willing to offer you advice.” He clenched his hand harder - _for a moment_ \- where he still gripped Baggins’ shoulder. “And remember that Fili and Kili and Ori are young men and trained soldiers who’ve been surviving in this world for just as long as you’ve been hiding from it.” He pulled Baggins closer, eyes narrowing. “They are not children.” That they were not Baggins’ children didn’t even need mentioning.

 

He released Baggins, but the smaller man stood completely still.

 

The silence stretched on for a moment with Baggins’ posture stiff and his face blank.

 

“I didn’t mean to offend.” His voice was strained, his words clipped. He pressed something into Thorin’s chest, his eyes fixed on a point above Thorin’s right shoulder, before meeting Thorin’s gaze briefly. “It’s for you.”

 

And then the man was walking away from him.

 

“You are a beardless, honorless excuse of a man and I cannot believe I am related to you.”

 

Thorin startled, pulling his gaze away from Baggins’ retreating form to look down at his vid-com in horror.

 

Had Dis been on this whole time?

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

- _He pulled forward as the vehicle ahead of him moved away and he left the engine of his Angmar Fellbeast idling. An attendant opened the door of his vehicle for him and he patted the young man on the shoulder as he stepped out and around the vehicle to climb the carpeted stairs._

_With every step he ascended, the number of flashes from the photographers grew and the whispers of the “young man in the white suit” multiplied. He stood patiently behind an elderly couple and watched as the Durinson heir made polite with the guests. Thrain, his father, stood next to the prince, but Thrain was often in the media and, although this would be his first time meeting the King of Erebor in person, it was Thorin who he was truly curious about. Thrain’s eldest son was supposedly not fond of the attention and duties his birthright had bestowed upon him and there were rumors that when the crown fell to him that he would be passing it immediately to his younger brother, Frerin._

_Thorin was of above average height for a native Ereborean, although still not quite as tall as the young man who was waiting to meet him, and had the dark hair and fair skin that the locals here were known for as well. The prince had a strong profile and could be called handsome when he took a moment to relax. Most of the time, though, while in the spotlight, Thorin wore a forced smile that strained his eyes and highlighted the fact that he sometimes clenched his jaw._

_The young man stepped forward at last, and couldn’t help the grin that stretched his mouth._

_Thorin’s grip was firm, but not overbearing, as they shook hands and the young man found himself immensely pleased. Thorin allowed the forced grin to fade from his features and curiosity and confusion lit up his eyes._

_The young man knew he was staring, he knew he was probably drawing attention to the both of them by prolonging the moment -_ brother wouldn’t approve, but mother would be amused _\-  but this was the first chance he’d ever had to study Thorin up close and he was loathed to see it wasted._

_To their right, Thrain was tensing. There was no recognition in his eyes as of yet, though, and so no danger._

_Using the grip he had on Thorin’s hand to pull the older fellow closer, he spoke his question as close to the shell of Thorin’s ear as he dared. “What was it like, being raised a Durinson?”_

_He was close enough to hear the stutter in Thorin’s breathing._

_Thorin pulled back -_ although not as far as he might have liked to, thanks to the youth’s firm grip _\- and met his gaze. The light in Thorin’s eyes glinted dangerously and the young man’s pulse sped up as he reminded himself that the man before him was actually a prominent and highly acclaimed soldier in his country’s army._

_“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”_

_A warning hidden in polite words - the Durinson Heir knew at least the basics of politics, then._

_“Azog,” the young man pitched his voice so that only the King of Erebor and his heir could hear him. “Azog Mágol.” He paused, unable to keep his grin from widening as he watched recognition and then caution flit over the two similar faces. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Thorin Durinson.”_

_Thorin’s eyes, interestingly enough, had yet to lose that glint of curiosity. The man noded -_ solemn, almost _\- and his grip on Azog’s hand began to tighten. “The pleasure is all mine.”_

_Azog blinked rapidly a few times, then loosed a bark of laughter as he matched the strength of his grip to Thorin’s. Oh, his mother and his brother were going to rake him over the coals when he got home, but it couldn’t be helped. Thorin was so much more than he’d been hoping for - Azog’s joy was too perfect._

_Thorin stared at him -_ eyes narrowed just so slightly _\- for a long moment. “This event is invitation only.” His voice was calm, laced through with caution and curiosity, but he increased the pressure of his grip again as he spoke._

_Azog knew that his face would ache tomorrow with how long he’d been grinning, but he could see no reason to care._

_Azog pulled Thorin closer to him again -_ face to face, this time _\- as close as Thorin would allow and kept his eyes locked on the electric blue of Thorin Durinson’s eyes. He held them there for a handful of heartbeats -_ just long enough to feel Thorin start to tense again _\- tightening his hand around Thorin’s until he could feel the bones in the other man’s hand creak before he broke the moment. In Azog’s other hand, he held the invitation sent to the Mágols out of political politeness -_ drawn from an outer pocket as he had pulled Thorin closer _\- and, in an abrupt move, he flicked the bit of parchment between their faces._

_Azog reveled in every detail of Thorin’s reaction: the way Thorin’s eyes dilated until the black of his pupils almost swallowed the bright blue of his irises; the way his upper lip twitched, as if he were fighting to keep a snarl away; the way he ripped free the hand that Azog had held so tightly for so long, even as his other hand started to reach to where a sidearm would’ve been kept - if the prince had been armed._

_There was movement in Azog’s peripheral vision, on either side of him, and he was very much aware of the almost painful silence that had fallen around them._

 

_Thorin stopped the approaching guard by holding up the same hand that Azog had gripped -_ an area red in the shape of Azog’s hand, and already beginning to purple _\- but didn’t bother breaking eye contact with Azog to do so. His breathing hadn’t changed any and if the polite mask that Thorin had worn prior to Azog’s introduction slid back into place, then at least his eyes were still blown wide._

 

_“Stand down,” he murmured and Azog wanted to rip the benign, photo-friendly smile that Thorin was back to wearing off his face. “He has an invitation. He is a welcomed guest.” Thorin had remembered himself again, or his surroundings, at least, and was the very picture of what the Heir Apparent should be - all save his eyes. There was a burning in them that Azog nearly shivered to see._

 

_“Welcome, Azog Mágol,” Thorin inclined his head in what could barely be called a nod. “Please, enjoy yourself.”_

 

_“Thank you,” Azog was careful to dip his head at the same angle when he returned the gesture. “I believe I will.”_ -

 

Azog blinked rapidly and shook himself free of old memories before he played the vid again.

 

A tap on his tech’s left shoulder meant that he wanted to change the camera angle, while a touch to the fellow’s elbow meant to zoom in on something. An elbow in the side and a flash of fingers got him a rewind and - _where possible_ \- clarification of the audio. Every second of the footage held information and Azog would not be ungrateful enough to let any of it go to waste.

 

Durinson had been caught unaware.

 

Azog didn’t fight the grin that curled his mouth.

 

Durinson had been sloppy and overconfident and had been caught unaware by the least competent, most moronic of the men under Azog’s command. It was a point he would be sure to remind Durinson of later, repeatedly.

 

Durinson was easy to pick out. He seemed to escape injury, but he was panicked about something. There was nothing obvious to his voice or his actions, of course, but the clench of his jaw and the flexing of his fists while he remained trapped at his location spoke loud enough. Azog knew his rival well enough by now to know the difference between concern held for his team and desperation of a different sort.

 

Another of the group tried his hand at reprogramming the weapons being used on them and got a bullet in the gut for his troubles. It was hard not to admire the man’s resolve when he kept working despite his wound.

 

“Which one is that?”

 

The tech paused the vid and zoomed in on the soldier.

 

“Corporal Bofur Kafuson, Holdfast, the engineer.”

 

Azog hummed and motioned for the vid to continue.

 

The three youngest - _a blonde, a brunette, and a ginger_ \- had been together when the attack started and one of them took injury, although not serious from the looks of it.

 

Durinson’s heirs could be any two of the three and the footage wasn’t the best quality, but it wasn’t bad enough to hide that the blonde and the brunet shared the same nose, the same jaw line.

 

He watched the first thirty seconds of their reactions several times, trying to will the footage more detailed with every pass. The focus and mild distress of the technophile, the sharp eyes and silent communication the other two shared. If Durinson only had one heir - _Durinson’s sister had birthed two, but the road was a dangerous place and he was certain that if one had perished along the way there wouldn't be a soul outside of Durinson’s personal unit who’d know of it_ \- it was more likely to be the ginger. The way the other two hovered over the lad and shielded him with their own bodies, that was the sort of loyalty that the Durinsons were well known for inspiring. If there were, indeed, two, though, then it was the “guards” that he needed.  

 

He caught the movement of Balcmeg approaching from the corner of his eye, but waited until he’d seen the entirety of the footage a second time before he turned to his first officer.

 

Balcmeg’s report was concise and exactly what Azog had been expecting. The attack on Durinson and his men had stopped and no contact had been made with the idiots who’d been stationed here. It was easy to see that Durinson’s team had taken them out, but who? Durinson only worked with a handful of people - _the addition of the youths was unexpected, but not unexplainable_ \- and the rest of Durinson’s Oaken Shield One unit were accounted for whether here or back in Ered Luin. So who was the fourth newcomer? Another child?

 

“Form a perimeter along the south and the west. Cover exits, target transport, and herd them to the North.” Azog gestured loosely to the blueprints that were tacked up on the side of the vehicle as he spoke. “Durinson is mine - any that harm him, I’ll give them double what he takes.” He kept his tone casual, almost playful as he spoke, but Balcmeg knew that his threats were never idle. “I want the three youngest alive. They won’t be taken easily, but damage them as little as you can. I need leverage over Durinson - we keep as many alive as we can.”

 

He paused and stood.

 

Around the vehicle, his own personal team stood, listening with rapt attention as he gave orders to his first officer. They had been through much together, this past decade, with every step leading toward this moment. Everyone was eager for it.

 

Balcmeg smirked.

 

Azog answered with a smirk of his own. He met the eyes of each of his soldiers before returning his gaze to his first officer and giving him a single nod. “Gimbatul.”

 

Balcmeg raised his voice in a howling battle cry that was echoed, one by one, by the rest of his unit, even as they made for their vehicles with all speed.

 

Azog answered them with a laugh. The image of Durinson was frozen on the monitor still when he returned his gaze to it and Azog took a moment to run his eyes over the other man’s face again.

 

“What are you up to this time, my crownless one?”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Thorin grit his teeth and nodded again. His jaw would ache tomorrow with how tight he’d been clenching it, but it was better that than to rile Dis up yet again. His sister was finally winding down in her righteous indignation and he somehow found himself capable of keeping his silence just a bit longer.

 

“Now, have I made myself clear, you overgrown sack of adolescence?”

 

Thorin allowed himself a snort and nodded his head just enough to be acceptable. It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Dis - _his younger sister_ \- that he was the one who’d been leading stealth missions for the past two decades, that he was the one who’d led their people through all of Middle Earth to find a single scrap of safety. If she were anyone else, he’d remind her that a mission was no place for civilians and that his harsh treatment of the scientist would be seen as a blessing later, but this was Dis. Dis, who was waiting at home while he went off to war, again. Dis, who had lost her husband to the fall of Erebor. Dis, who had sent her only two children off to war with Thorin.

 

Gandalf cleared his throat, interrupting Thorin’s thoughts. “Now that we have that aside, Commander, would it be possible for an old man to get a better picture of the current circumstances?”

 

Thorin nodded and took a deep breath. Gandalf secured the line and Thorin provided a report of the journey, starting with leaving Baggins’ abode.

 

The silence was heavy when he finished.

 

“Thorin,...” Dis is first to speak, her voice tense with emotion.

 

“The roads have always been unsafe,” he cut her off before she could get started again. He hadn’t the time or the patience to listen to another dressing down. “It’s nothing we didn’t already know. Things have been a bit more brutal than we anticipated, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

 

“The lands that lay between the districts are unprotected,” Greyhame nodded. “And often overrun by vagrants and folk of dubious or dangerous nature, but that is not the source of the trouble that you’ve found following you.”

 

Thorin narrowed his eyes.

 

“You’ve been speaking too loudly in public places of things that should be whispered of in private,” Greyhame’s tone was almost scolding. “Those soldiers were not stationed here in anticipation for you, but they identified you, none-the-less, and have passed this information along their own chain of command.”

 

Thorin felt ice fill his veins. “No.” His voice was harsh, more of a snarl for all that the words were a plea.

 

“The information has already reached beyond my ability to retrieve it,” and there was regret in the old man’s eyes, even if just for a moment. “You need to change your plans, you need to plot a new route, a different route, and you need somewhere safe to do it. Head to these coordinates,” numbers and letters flashed at the bottom of the screen, “and you’ll be granted sanctuary.”

 

Thorin frowned and shook his head. “We’ve discussed this already, Greyhame. I’ll not -”

 

“What do you mean? Greyhame, what do those coordinates mean?”

 

Thorin grit his teeth and focussed on not cussing at his younger sister - the one who was worried over her only surviving brother and her two dear, dear sons.

 

“Those coordinates belong to some allies of mine, people who would help the company restock and -”

 

“We have no need of restocking anything,” Thorin cut in. The Valar help him if these two meddlers ever came into real-world contact. “We have food and provisions enough to reach our goals without so much as to weigh us down unnecessarily and, given what you’ve just reprimanded me for, I’d think that you’d not want us to impose our plans and presence on anyone else.” Thorin could feel his mouth begin to warp into a sneer at this point, but didn’t have enough in him to care. “And if you don’t care, I do. These are civilians you’re sending us to - you’ve said as much yourself.”

 

“You have wounded that you must consider, Durinson,” Greyhame interjected calmly. “My friends are more than capable of defending themselves, and others, but, more than that, they are renowned for their healing technologies -”

 

“Really?” Thorin snarled out, unable to hold his rage back any longer. “Those coordinates are less than ten miles from the Bruinen Ford, where my people were ambushed by ORCS a dozen years ago! Not ten miles from where civilians were gunned down and where was their help then? Where was their famous healing technology when our children bled out because we didn’t have the supplies to heal them?” Thorin sucked in a savage breath and sneered at Greyhame’s image, the man’s eyes closed in token grief. “I’ll not turn to anyone who’d leave the unarmed to the slaughter. I’ll not send any under my command to seek the help of those who would not help -”

 

“Major! Major, we’ve found something!”

 

Hearing Kili’s excited voice over the com was more than enough excuse for him. “Excuse me, Stormcrow.” He offered a few rapid, subtle signs to his sister and a polite nod - _passibly polite, in any case_ \- to Greyhame before he cut the connection.

 

“Major, this is Foxhound Alpha Bravo.” Fili’s voice followed Thorin’s disconnect of the call. “We’ve found a number of vehicles in the maintenance bay that were overlooked.” The lad’s tone was smug and there was excitement hiding under the professional words. “Rhosgobels. Seven of them, over.”

 

Thorin’s blood ran ice cold - _the vehicle made the tight turn, but only on two wheels, and the locals they just barely avoided hitting were close enough for Thorin to realize that both the man and the woman were wearing makeup, before the vehicle slammed down onto all fours again. Thorin had one hand on his pistol and the other gripping the seat beneath him, cringing at the sound of brick grinding against the body of the vehicle as he tried to recall how, by the holy and sacred names of each of the Valar, he had allowed a simple driving lesson to turn into a high speed chase in pursuit of a known ORCS agent and how he was going to keep his sister from skinning him alive when she found out_ \- and he choked on his breath.

 

“DON’TTOUCHTHEM!” He was vaguely aware of snickering coming from further down the hall, but ignored it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Alpha, Bravo, hold position. Bluebell will be present shortly, over and out.”

 

Dwalin bursts into giggles - _there was no more masculine a word for it_ \- as soon as Thorin took his hand off the com, but Nori managed to keep a straight face, even if his eyes were full of laughter. Thorin was a benevolent king - he was willing to forgive his best friend this once.

 

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Nori and mouthed Balin’s name.

 

Nori motioned down the hall. Armory, he signed, rotating and flexing his injured arm. Babysitting Red and the local.

 

Thorin nodded and made his own way down to the weapons room. He briefly considered apologizing for words that might have been more harshly spoken than necessary, but dismissed the idea. Dis was still innocent in a way that Thorin would loathe to see her lose, but that softness had no place on a mission.

 

Thorin paused in the doorway to the armory, watching as Gloin filled what looked to be three separate crates with various materials while going on about the pros and cons of each particular weapon he was handling. Baggins seemed to be split between hovering over Gloin’s shoulder as he listened to the red-head’s prattle and lingering at a long table that held a number of grenades. Balin stood along the back wall, keeping watch it seemed.

 

The older man raised an eyebrow in challenge when he met Thorin’s eyes and glanced at Baggins, but Thorin ignored the look. Instead, he made his way down an unoccupied row of weapons - _blades_ \- and listened to Gloin encourage Baggins to collect himself a few weapons for himself, promising to teach the local how to use them properly - _safely_ \- if the smaller man did.

 

Whatever reply Baggins gave was lost as a particular gleam caught Thorin’s eye.

 

He approached the case that had given him paused, transfixed by one weapon in particular. It looked like... but it was possible that it wasn’t. He frowned at the lock on the case that housed it, but was already hefting the butt of his rifle when he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

 

Thorin tensed and paused when he recognized the new comer as Dori, but Balin, perceptive as ever and still light on his feet, intercepted Dori before the other fellow could quite reach him.

 

Thorin rolled his shoulders to shake the tension off again and brought the butt of his rifle down hard. It took a few strikes to break the lock properly, but as soon as he had, he wrenched the cabinet open and reached for the only blade he could properly see.

 

Dori and Balin paused in their conversation, stepping forward to better see the weapon.

 

No, not weapon. It couldn’t be called a weapon. This was no mere bit of sharp and shiny metal.

 

“A rare blade. Expertly crafted. Beautifully weighted. They’ll hold an edge for ages.” He felt numb as the words fell from his mouth. “Dating from before the Great War. One of the same make and model was gifted to my family, passed down the line of Durin.” He paused, watching Dori nod. The subtle movements were echoed in Nori, though when the other Lorison had arrived, Thorin couldn’t say. “Azog Mágol used that blade to kill my brother.”

 

\- _Every cell in Thorin’s being had ached with exhaustion, but he and his advisors had only just finished accounting for every citizen that they had gathered together. They only had another three days to rest here. With seeing to injuries, planning their next move, and trying to reunite what family together that he could, there was no time to rest, not yet._

_Thorin didn’t know when the images on the vid-screen changed, couldn’t have said when they ceased being whatever benignly informative program normally aired and transformed into the image of a man, younger than him by a half a decade or more, who stood between two people he’d seen nearly every day of his life._

_At first, all Thorin saw was his brother and his father and the very idea that they were still alive and mostly uninjured after days of not knowing was nearly enough to have him emptying his stomach with relief._

_The man that stood between them was saying something that Thorin couldn’t be bothered with, but the more he looked at the screen the more he realized that his family wasn’t okay. There were bruises across their faces, their clothing was rumpled and dirty, their hair unkempt. They were kneeling, both of them, holding their hands behind their back and looking in the direction of the camera, but not directly at it._

_Father kept closing his eyes periodically, but only for a moment or two before opening them again. His eyes were tight and he clenched his jaw more often than he should. He was embarrassed. Was he nervous?_

_Frerin was on the man’s other side. He held himself stiffly and his face was a mask of polite calm. There was a glassy sheen to his eyes, though, and the edges of something wild at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Frerin was scared, terrified._

_It wasn’t until Mágol -_ the younger one, called Azog _\- stepped up behind Frerin that the uncomfortable whine that echoed in his head -_ the feeling of something off, something not right _\- exploded into a ringing alarm._

_The blade in Mágol’s hand was familiar for all that Thorin had only ever seen it during ceremonies of the state. The image of that same blade burned into his mind as it swung down to bite into the side of Frerin’s neck - the Gondolin 0-CRIST_ -

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

\- _It was nearly twenty minutes later that Azog was finally able to corner Thorin again._

_The crown prince was standing near the wall, along side two men. The first man was of average height and had brownish-blonde hair long enough to warrant tying back. He smiled quickly and his posture suggested he was completely at ease, but a sharp eye could catch his gaze flitting about the room - ever watchful. The second was just taller than Thorin, more broad in the shoulder than the first man and wore his hair cropped close to the scalp, save for a longer strip along the crown of his head. He had his arms crossed over his chest and barely bothered to hide his contempt for the social function he was at. Both men wore black -_ clothing, armor, boots _\- and were politely armed, but the second soldier carried one additional weapon._

_Azog knew these men - Muric Morinson and Dwalin Fundinson. They had both been along side Thorin during the raid that he and Bolg had recently led - an ambush, the local media had called it._

_Thorin stood conversing with them and he was more at ease here than he had been welcoming the guests earlier. His smile was more muted, but it was a natural thing and his face seemed younger now that he was more relaxed._

_He rubbed at his hand -_ the one Azog had gripped so firmly earlier _\- as he spoke to his comrades and Azog was very pleased with how close he was able to get to the group without being spotted._

_“- not fair, Oakenshield!” Morinson smiled at Thorin through his complaint. “You know I can’t help how witty and charming I am! If you follow through, I’ll never be free from kitchen duty again!”_

_“That’s the point,” Thorin -_ they were calling him Oakenshield, now? _\- smirked in return._

_It was Fundinson that spotted him first. His eyes narrowed and he shifted so that he was just a bit more between Azog and his target._

_Azog could not stop his grin._

_The other two picked up on Fundinson’s increased tension in the next heartbeat. Morinson still stood at ease, but there was a sharpness to the smile that hadn’t been present before. Thorin’s eyes flashed with something and he was not quite fast enough to catch his sneer before it startled to curl his upper lip._

_Azog came to a stop closer to Thorin than the three men were comfortable with, but still more than within the bounds of propriety._

_“You look upset, your Highness,” Azog nodded his head to Thorin again, gentling his smile. “Have I caused you offence?”_

_The soldier with the mohawk didn’t bother hiding his snarl, but he was quiet about it. The blonde choked on a laugh._

_Thorin frowned, but shook his head. “No, Mágol, no offence has been taken.” Blue eyes flashed with challenge as he spoke, but his tone was still polite._

_“I’m pleased to hear that, your Highness,” Azog nodded and reached to press a companionable hand to Thorin’s - still healing - arm._

_Thorin flinched back, lips pulling back to bare his teeth in silent snarl, while Morinson shifted restlessly and Fundinson went deadly still._

_“Oh, I’m sorry, your Highness.” Concern painted Azog’s voice, but he was careful to keep it off his face. He would not insult Thorin with false emotion, not where the other could see it. “I hadn’t realized that you were still injured.”_

_That was a lie, of course, and Azog was certain that his eyes were sparkling with the knowledge of it._

_He remembered that battle. He remember the way the Erebor scum had scattered under the barrage of artillery that he and Bolg and Bolg’s favorites had unleashed upon them._

_The whole set up had been a gift for Thorin. Azog had been careful to target the soldiers who stood closest to Thorin, but Bolg was after the head of the company - one General Verin Vayarson - that day. It had surprised them both terribly when Thorin had taken it upon himself to protect his commander bodily._

_Luckily, Azog enjoyed surprises._

_“I am well enough,” Thorin’s eyes narrowed briefly. The feeling of his gaze moving over Azog’s face was almost enough to make Azog’s breath stutter._

_“That’s good news, your Highness,” Azog nodded and fought to keep his heart rate under control. “I had heard that you were caught in an ambush, that you had protected your commander bodily under heavy fire and received injury for it.”_

_Azog allowed his eyes to slide over the arm in question. He wondered if there was any scarring from the wounds and had to fight to bring his gaze back up to meet Thorin’s eyes._

_“It’s a noble thing you did, but I can’t help wondering why the Heir to such a happy, prosperous district would throw himself into such a dangerous situation.”_

_Azog took a partial step closer, ignoring the way the prince’s guards tensed. His eyes were locked on Thorin’s, watching for every reaction, no matter how subtle._

_“You put so much at risk each time you go on a mission - so much at risk when you have it all. But do you have it all?”_

_Thorin blinked -_ twice _\- but remained silent._

_“Ah, so perhaps it’s not the having, but the lack of wanting of all that you do have.”_

_Thorin blinked again, eyes widening just a fraction._

_“I wonder why that is? You were born to a life where everything has been given to you and yet you turn away from every bit of it to go play soldier.”_

_“Are you going to let him go on all night?” Fundinson growled._

_“At least he’s more interesting than the last unbalanced soul that slipped through,” Morinson’s smile was all teeth and his hands were hovering discretely over his weapons. “He’s obviously just as smitten as the last sod - it couldn’t hurt to let the poor fellow get it out of his system before we cart him away.”_

_Azog sucked in a breath and felt his hands curl into fists._

_How dare they? How dare these runts compare him to the mold spores that despaired for the attentions of the Durinson heir?! He was a Mágol! And not just any Mágol, but the very one who would end the reign of their beloved Durinsons!_

_Thorin clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitched to turn upward. “Let him say his piece,” Thorin nodded to him._

_Azog rewarded the man with a warm smile and a smug tilt of his head._

_Of course Thorin was interested in hearing what he had to say. Azog was the one fated to end him and Thorin had to be able to sense that on some level. How could he not? Thorin was his prey and that made the bond between them so much stronger than even the friendships forged between Thorin and his guards as brothers in arms. It was only natural for the Durinson heir to be as drawn to Azog as he was to Thorin, and if the intensity of his gaze and the flush beginning to color his cheeks was anything to go by, then their passions were equally matched._

_“I do see the appeal of it,” Azog continued as if there’d been no interruption, nearly purring with the knowledge that he had Thorin’s complete attention. “How could I not? The life of a soldier must be so much simpler! Stand here, walk here, lift this, clean that... So much more exciting, too, than all those mundane responsibilities that come with being born the eldest son of a king.”_

_Thorin’s eyes were beginning to dilate again. Not as much as during the handshake, but noticeable all the same. Azog had to bite his lower lip to keep from licking it._

_“No,” he shook his head, a slow, hungry smile curling his lips. “No, a true warrior at heart you are, Thorin Durinson. You turn to a militant life not to run, but for the thrill.”_

_And here Thorin tilted his chin up just so slightly. If Azog had been another handspan away he’d have missed the motion, but he knew the motion for what it was. It was a sign - Azog was right._

_They were reading each other so well. Such a short amount of time in each other’s company -_ none of it private _\- and already they were reading each other so perfectly. He let his eyes roam Thorin’s face and stance, wondering what details his enemy was reading off of him, off his expressions and his body language._

_“Is it the thrill of the hunt that you want?” Azog could feel his own breath coming faster now. “I saw it in your eyes earlier, when we met - when I... shook your hand.” Azog let his smile turn sly. “You do love it - the threat and the challenge. The promise of a good chase and a well earned kill.”_

_The blue in Thorin’s eyes was being eaten up by the black again and his breath was coming faster, too. He was good at hiding it, but it shone through in his eyes._

_“The thrill of the kill, that’s what you long for.” Azog straightened himself. He hadn’t realized that he’d been leaning so far forward. “That’s not a very kingly thing to long for, though, is it?”_

_Anger flashed in Thorin’s eyes again and his jaw clenched, but his lip didn’t so much as twitch._

_“Well, for most kings.” Azog allowed. “The quiet, gentle souls who do right by their people - who lead their folk through times of peace and prosperity and are promptly forgotten for it. Like your father is. Like your brother will be.”_

_Thorin took a step forward, his frown becoming more severe. His eyes moved rapidly over Azog’s face as he let the silence draw out._

_“But the kings that know how to savor a kill,” Azog continued, allowing himself to leer at his target, at his prize. “The ones that can make the hard decisions at a moment’s notice, the ones that can be brutal in taking what their people need.” He felt his tongue slide across his lower lip without his meaning it to. “Those are the ones history remembers.” His voice was becoming hoarse. “Those are the kings that no one dares forget.”_

_Thorin narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Azog as he finally responded. “You presume to know much about me. As you are a Mágol, this comes as no surprise.” The shadow of a smirk graced his mouth and he shook his head again. “You are the end of your bloodline and it must burn you to know that the flame of your so-called noble house will be extinguished when you draw your last breath.”_

_Azog sucked in a breath and felt himself blinking rapidly._

_“Don’t be so quick to forget that it was the lustful greed of your ancestors that started this war between our names, that put you in this situation.”_

_Azog closed the distance between them before the sentence was finished. His breath came in pants and his hands threatened to curl into fists and it was only the dim memory that he was in a public place -_ a political function _\- that kept him from attacking Thorin there._

_“I can smell the same lustful greed penetrating the very air we breathe.” Thorin continued with a sharp grin. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Mágol, everyone present at this little tea party knows exactly who and what we both are.” They were standing too close to even pretend at propriety now. Close enough that Azog could see the light glittering in Thorin’s eyes, the pupil’s blown so wide that the ring of blue surrounding them was barely visible, “Let’s not drag this pain out unnecessarily.” Thorin paused again and when he spoke next it was with no less anger for all that he was suddenly solemn. “Let us be the ones to conclude this archaic feud between our families.”_

_Azog’s heart stuttered in his chest, his voice hoarse and breathless when he was finally able to speak. “It would be my honor to end you.”_ -

 

Azog shifted in his seat and felt the muscles in his face ache in the way they did when he’d been grinning too long.

 

He exited his vehicle and shook his head at himself. It couldn’t be helped.

 

He made his way to his position, a prime spot for viewing the coming attack, and blinked rapidly as he rolled the memories over in his mind. This was a game of cat and mouse several decades in the making and, now that the end was near enough to taste, he found himself becoming sentimental.

 

There had been so many promises made between them - and many of those had been kept, to Azog’s unending pleasure. He had made his rival king, forcing the title into Thorin’s unwilling hands. He had forged his rival into a weapon, pressing on him until he had no choice, but to grow stronger. He had thrust greatness upon his rival, stealing every scrap of happiness from him until he had no choice but to retaliate.

 

Yes, the Crownless one had reached the peak of what Azog had spent years guiding and crafting him to be - which meant that all the games and intrigue that had led the both of them to this point were nearing an end.

 

Azog raised the amplifier to lips that were still stretched in a wicked grin and readied the detonator he carried in his off hand.

 

It was almost time for Azog to fulfil his most important promise and his own destiny.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“It’s not like I’m made of glass, lads. Sure, it’s been a while since I was shot last, but the bullet passed through clean and the worst of the pain is over already.”

 

Fili nodded dutifully from Bofur’s side, pretending not to notice how much of the older man’s weight he was supporting and trying to be subtle about how hard he was clenching his jaw in his worry.

 

“At least this isn’t your first time!” Ori bemoaned. “Everyone else’s been shot at least once already - it’s almost embarrassing that it’s taken me this long to catch a bit of lead for myself.”

 

Where Bofur only showed his discomfort in the tightness of his eyes, Ori’s voice was breathy and his lower lip trembled with suppressed pain. The pair of them snorted and groused over the fussing and hovering that the Durinson brothers displayed, but neither pushed away the help that was offered.

 

“Well, consider yourself doing us a favor, then,” Kili’s playful grin came from Ori’s uninjured side as they led the way to the new vehicles that had yet to be inspected. “We let you out of our sights for even so much as a piss and your brothers will string us up by our very own guts.”

 

“If we’re lucky,” Fili added.

 

“If we’re lucky,” Kili nodded his agreement.

 

The four of them were almost to the other garage - _not overly far away from their campsite-turned-battle-ground and thankfully less decrepit looking_ \- and the silence that fell over them was many things, but awkward was not one of them. It was Ori who finally broke it.

 

“Dori or Nori?” The look on his face was contemplative, even through the strain of pain he wore.

 

Kili let loose with a laugh at that and shot an affectionate look back at Fili. It took Bofur a moment longer before he caught on to what Ori meant and Fili pressed his lips together tight because Bofur had broken out in a bit of a sweat now, too.

 

“Dori, of course,” Kili wore his grin in his voice. “Nori would only scare the piss out of us, maybe give us a thrashing if Dwalin’s been leaving him wanting, but Dori would give us a dressing down and you’ve been going on about those long enough to instill a proper fear of them in us.”

 

Ori frowned, as if he was uncertain if he was being patronized and whether or not he cared, but he nodded. “Well,” he grumbled. “Glad to see something’s sunken through those thick heads of yours.”

 

Bofur’s laugh was breathless and tight, but genuine as the four of them finally reached the garage in which the four vehicles sat.

 

Fili and Kili had already removed the tarps that covered them, and although the vehicles were far from shiney, they didn’t show the filth and rust that so much of the other equipment there was covered with.

 

“Rhosgobel Rabbits.” Bofur whistled low. “Now isn’t this a pretty bit of shiney?” He was a touch paler than he was when he started the short trip, but his eyes roamed the machines hungrily.

 

Kili caught Fili’s eye again. The younger brother looked at Bofur, then to Ori, back to Bofur, and then stretched his neck to the right. Fili looked where indicated and spotted a dusty bench that sat close to the second nearest vehicle. He made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and shifted his grip on Bofur’s arm so that he could start guiding the older man to their chosen spot.

 

Bofur went along with the nudging easily enough, but Ori insisted that he didn’t want to sit and FIli had just gotten Bofur settled when the building shuddered with another explosion.

 

Gunfire followed.

 

Fili had his pistols drawn and found himself bodily between Bofur and the entrance of the small hangar before he could pause to think. A quick glance showed Kili’s stance mirroring his own and that both their charges had weapons in their hands, despite their injuries.

 

Gloin’s voice was ringing through the coms before Fili could speak. “Shelldrake here - we’ve got a swarm of wasps over here at base camp and they found the boom-juice. No casualties yet, but we’ve lost the transport and the gear it carried.”

 

Ori made a strangled sound and, though he knew better, Fili risked sending another glance at him to ensure that his friend was okay.

 

“No,” Ori moaned, eyes wide and pistol lowering. “No, no, no. This is my fault, all my fault!”

 

Fili exhaled sharply through his nose - _waiting to hear an audible draw of breath from Kili_ \- before he made his way to the entrance of the small garage to keep look out, the sounds of gunfire echoing down the tunnel to them.

 

“I should’ve been on my portable! I know that everyone was counting on me - I’ve already cost us enough by not paying attention to it. Oin told me to sit still and rest and I - I - I sh- I should’ve -” Ori’s voice trailed off into a whine of distress and Fili fought to keep his eyes on the hallway in front of him even as he clenched his teeth again.

 

“Come off it, lad,” Bofur’s voice was light, even as Fili heard the sounds of him moving, shifting to what was hopefully a more defensible position. “Luck is a fickle bitch and it seems she’s dead set against us having any sort of rest tonight. Besides, there’s no telling if that fancy bit of tech of yours would’ve given us early warning or not.”

 

“This is Major,” Thorin’s voice as calm and steady as it ever was when he gave orders over the com. “Fall back to these coordinates,” Fili nodded to himself. Everyone was converging on them, then. “Grab what you can, but don’t risk your skin. Over and out.”

 

Things moved quickly, then, a whirlwind of activity that was as comforting in its familiarity as it was heart pounding with trouble.

 

Fili found himself helping Bofur into the nearest vehicle, aware of Kili - _even if he couldn’t see him_ \- helping Gloin distribute what gear and weapons they’d salvaged between the different vehicles. By the time his thoughts had a chance to catch up to the rest of him, Fili was sitting in the driver’s seat of a Rhosgobel, Kili in the passenger’s seat next to him, and they were sharing a manic grin.

 

The flicker in Kili’s eyes was the only warning Fili had before his door was opened and someone yanked him from out from behind the wheel by the scruff of his neck.

 

“You’re not driving,” Uncle Thorin’s gruff voice held a hint of amusement - _teasing affection_ \- and that took the sting out of the words, even if his face was burning with embarrassment.

 

Eight years ago he had messed up and still everyone remembered.

 

His first driving lesson, meant to be a rare chance to spend time with an uncle he barely got to see and Kili along to watch, and by some stroke of luck it had morphed into a high speed chase against an ORCS operative in a Gundabag Warg. His uncle had needed him then, and he had nearly busted with pride to able to drive the vehicle and give Uncle Thorin the chance to bring another enemy down. Looking back, now, he knew it could’ve ended so much worse - _they all knew this_ \- but that didn’t change the fact that he’d managed to destroy the one Rhosgobel Rabbit they’d managed to get a hold of and no one in their small family had ever let him forget it.

 

“Kili, you’ll ride with Balin.”

 

Fili, who’d been allowing his uncle to shove him toward the back seat of the vehicle he’d been hoping to drive, froze.

 

Kili was out of the vehicle in the space of a heartbeat, eyes wide as they darted between Fili and Thorin. Fili gave his brother a firm, deliberate blink, before he turned questioning eyes on his uncle.

 

“Fili, you’ll ride with Bombur, I’ll ride with Dwalin and Ori will ride with his brothers.”

 

Thorin gave his shoulder a brief squeeze and then he was moving away.

 

Fili nodded and forced himself to breathe, even has he ran his own hand across the hair at the nape neck. Kili wore a strained smile already, but seeing their uncle take the time to press a hand to Kili’s shoulder gave him the strength to move.

 

He let his movements become automatic - mind spinning to work out what his uncle’s reasoning.

 

The Mágols had hated the Durinsons since the dawn of time and, since the Fall, the mongrels had made sure that they couldn’t go anywhere as themselves. He and Kili had been raised to fear the bastard Azog and his men, to fear what he might do if he got his hands on them and their family. Thorin had gone to great lengths to ensure that the two of them weren’t associated with the crownless king of Erebor - or, at least not any more than Ori was. But having a visual to go with their names or not - _Azog knew that Fili and Kili existed and there were direct orders to have the two of them brought in alive, at all costs_ \- just like for Uncle Thorin.

 

By putting Thorin in one vehicle and the three youngest members of their group each in another... the ORCS wouldn’t be able to simply blow up any of the four transports they took.

 

A hand on Fili’s knee was followed by Bombur’s voice. “Lad?”

 

The building shook around them with the force of another explosion. Dust sifted down from overhead but there was no gunfire coming from the hallway that led to this hangar so they still had another few seconds to spare.

 

Fili opened his mouth only for his words to stick in his throat.

 

“Durinson....” The voice was rough and deep and laced with a pleased anticipation. The word had been crooned through an amplifier just after all gunfire had ceased and drawn out like a verbal caress. “Durinson....”

 

Fili swallowed hard. He had never heard that voice before in his life, but he knew exactly who it had belonged it.

  
“Azog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all - I am so so sorry for how very, incredibly, shamefully long this chapter took to post. I make no excuses, but off up the RL is sometimes incredibly cruel and harsh.
> 
> Second of all - Smalls and I (Z) have reviewed this chapter with very little sleep, so please let us know if you've found a mistake and we'll fix it asap!
> 
> Lastly - thank you. For those of you who kept posting comments and encouragement (and helpful criticism, too!), for those of you who have been waiting so very patiently - you are all saints and I hope the chapter has made the wait worth it.


	14. Bad Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news and blood feuds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Bad Moon Rising by Mourning Ritual.
> 
> Please remember that all artwork (including locations and teasers) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> Also, in case you missed the way the last chapter ended, this chapter is mostly battles and fight scenes, so be prepared for violence and blood.
> 
> Happy Friday the 13th!

Dwalin took a moment to reflect on the weapon in his hand. They didn’t have a moment to spare, really, but the weapon was already long familiar to him. The Grasper AX-3 was more than just a beauty, it was a comfort in high stress settings like the one they were in now.

He hefted the weapon and sent a sidelong look at Thorin, only to see his own smirk reflected back at him. That was, of course, when Gloin decided to speak up.

“You want to clear a path for us or are we stopping for a circle jerk?”

Thorin nodded and Dwalin stood. In a fluid, well practiced motion, he shouldered his assault rifle and readied his second source of comfort - The Keeper MSG, a 40 mm, six-shot, revolving multiple grenade launcher. He leveled his baby at the hangar door before returning Thorin’s nod.

“DOWN!” The word bellowed out from Dwalin and he ducked as soon as the grenade left the barrel.

The explosion had his ears ringing again and the blast had more dust and debris sifting down on them from overhead, but the barrier ahead now sported a gaping hole and they were already moving through their new exit.

The air outside was cooler than Dwalin had expected, made all the sharper by the high speeds they were driving at, but it was after midnight now and summer was nearing its end. The cold was no hardship in and of itself, but the canopy overhead kept him from seeing what clouds might be gathering and that was a concern. That the cold on the wind might signal a cold front carrying a storm bode both ill and well in turn.

He cast a glance at where Thorin crouched next to him, the overly bright headlights from behind and the oppressive darkness that blanketed the forest combining to cast stark shadows over his friend’s face. A rumble sounded from somewhere above the canopy, almost too low to pick up over the rush of the wind and the roar of the engines, but there wasn’t enough moisture on the wind for it to be raining just yet.

Thorin wore a near manic grin when Dwalin turned back to him. He couldn’t deny that it was a welcome sight, enough to drive Dwalin’s concerns about the hour and the weather - _at least, temporarily_ \- from his mind and when Thorin bellowed out the cry of “DU BEKAR,” Dwalin answered with a bark of laughter. His blood sang with adrenaline, his body thrummed with the promise of battle soon to be had, and his heart was warmed by the sound of the battle cry echoing back in the familiar voices of the company. His very being felt electrified.

This was a beautiful night to court death.

They sped through the trees as quickly as they dared - _the path was old, rough at the best of times, and there was enough brush and scrub growing along it that Dwalin might have felt concerned about the damage the vehicles might take, had they been anything but Rhosgobels_ \- eyes and ears straining for any signs of their pursuers, when the vehicle swerved, sharply and without warning.

It was only Dwalin’s reflexes that let him brace himself in time to avoid bashing his face on the frame of the damned machine.

“My decrepit great aunt could drive better than this,” he play snarled at Gloin, where the other man sat safely ensconced in the driver’s seat.

“And Gimli fussed less than you when he was a babe teething with colic,” Gloin’s retort was smug. “What’s your point, Fundinson?”

“That the both of you whine like nags,” Thorin’s voice rose above the harsh sounds of the wind, his eyes sparkling with mirth from where he sat at Dwalin’s side. “Nothing’s changed.”

The three of them were in the lead of the caravan, but not so far ahead that they didn’t hear the warning called out by those further back. There was the space of two heart beats and then the trees and brush around them stood out in stark relief against the brightness of an explosion that lit up the night. An earsplitting blast was quick to follow and Dwalin found himself wearing a fierce grin. If they were lucky, it would take the ORCS scum another few minutes to scramble back to their own vehicles and start after them.

It wasn’t time Dwalin was willing to waste being idle.

The light they had to work with wasn’t what he’d have prefered for checking weapons over - _Balin was driving the vehicle on their tail_ \- but it was better than working in the dark or under heavy fire. Dwalin let his hands follow the motions they were familiar with, checking over Grasper and Keeper first, before moving on to blades and  smaller pistols. The moment he finished with his own gear, he reached for the centerpiece of this beautiful transport - _an armor penetrating 50 cal, belt fed, 500 rpm machine gun turret_ \- but Thorin’s hand gripped his arm before he could find his feet.

-Mine.- Thorin signed, self satisfied smirk on his royal ass of a face. -Stand down.-

Dwalin glanced at the weapon, then sent a cocky grin back to his liege. -Too open. Death trap. Leader can’t be vulnerable.-

Thorin’s fingers twisted and flicked to form vulgar words before getting to the meat of his message. -Then utilise rocket launcher and assault rifle to provide cover.-

Dwalin was already half forming his response when Kili’s voice broke out over the coms.

“Incoming storm.”

Fili’s voice was quick to follow. “I second that.”

“I’m not tracking you,” Nori’s voice was calm - _annoyed_ \- over the coms.

“Azog,” Thorin snarled and shifted to face Dwalin, eyes scanning what lay behind the other man.

Dwalin glared over Thorin’s shoulder at the darkness that lay beyond the reach of the headlights. “Didn’t take him long, did it?”

“Objective.” Thorin’s voice was cold, detached.

“Mágol is after you and the boys,” Dwalin gripped the railing of the Rabbit as it raced over another felled tree.

“Alive,” Thorin added.

“Kill the rest,” Dwalin agreed.

“Eleven trained soldiers...” Thorin’s eyes narrowed.

“Then twenty to thirty ORCS.”

“Not more than three cycles,” Thorin nodded.

“Easily seven battle-capable transport.”

“And all the toys he can lay hands on.” Thorin sighed.

“Including infrared specs and night vision retina lenses,” Dwalin snarled.

Thorin clenched his jaw for a moment before relaxing and shaking his head. Dwalin took the moment to crack his neck, then his knuckles.

“Priori-”

“I hear it, now! I hear it, too!” Ori’s voice was breathy over the com. Probably for the best that Oin had held off giving the lad anything for pain. “It’s high and whiny, like a mosquito.”

“Priority,” Thorin repeated, cocking his head to one side.

Dwalin angled his head as well, trying to catch where the noise was coming from. “The package.”

“Baggins,” Thorin corrected, a wry - _amused_ \- smile on his face.

Dwalin snorted, but didn’t bother sharing his opinion. “Zero battle experience.”

“Injury likely,” Thorin nodded.

Dwalin picked up the sound of a Warg cycle over the rushing of the wind and reached for Grasper. “Confine to cabin.”

Thorin hesitated, before nodding reluctantly, his eyes narrowed with frustration.

They couldn’t afford to be even one gun hand short - _even if the hand they’d lose was more likely to shoot himself in the foot than to hit the enemy_ \- but they couldn’t afford for Baggins to get injured, either. There was no solution for it.

“No visual,” Fili’s voice was tight through the static.

Dwalin slammed his fist on the railing of the Rabbit to keep from cussing - _better to save his breath_ \- then turned to sign to his brother, who was driving the Rabbit on their tail. -Store Boxwood with you. Secure and protect.-

“Plan,” Thorin spoke before Dwalin’s hands had stopped moving.

Dwalin wracked his brain for any memory of the local terrain. The cycles sounded like they were getting closer. “Forest ends in a mile, rocky terrain after.

“Alpha, this is Overlord, hold fire until you have visual,” Balin’s voice was steady and sure over the com, as if this sort of thing were a daily occurrence.

In the next moment blinding strobe lights and the stuttering thunder of gunfire filled the night air and suddenly they all had targets.

“Oh, don’t hold back on my account, Thorin,” Dwalin snarled at the sound of the oil slick filth that was the Rat Bastard Mágol’s voice pouring into his ear. “I want your all.”

“How did that shit-eater patch into our fucking coms?!” Dwalin knew the words were wasted, he could hear the roar of return fire - _the flashes of their surroundings that the gunfire further back provided showed that nothing had caught up to their car yet, despite the sound of the cycles getting louder_ \- but he didn’t care.

Thorin’s mouth was warped in the shape of a snarl. He grabbed Dwalin’s shoulder and gave him a shove and Dwalin followed the command - turning and resting his back against Thorin’s, readying his weapon as he did.

“If you’re so damned eager to eat our lead, then why don’t you show your face, you corpse-fucking shit-stain?!”

Dwalin uttered every curse he could think of. Behind him, he could feel the rumble of Thorin’s cursing through where their shoulders met. Kili was going to get the tanning of his life when they managed to escape the shit storm they were currently sailing.

“They’re going to try to cut us off.” Dwalin yelled over the wind. His throat was going to be hoarse tomorrow. “Flares over open ground?”

Thorin shifted so that he was facing Balin’s vehicle more directly and Dwalin moved to mirror him before the thought was a conscious one. Dwalin felt the movement in at his shoulders that meant that Thorin was signing even as he caught on to what Thorin was saying. “Rhosgobels are strongest from the sides. We’ll hold formation while we have cover from the woods, have our tail take out as many as they can. Once we’re clear of the trees, we’ll break away to attack their flank.”

“So, you did bring your children with you,” the bastard’s sickening chuckle filled the coms and Thorin’s shoulders were now as taut as a bow string. “Tell me, Thorin, did their mother weep when you pulled them from her tit? Or was she relieved to be rid of their incessant whining?”

“You shut your ho-” But Kili was cut off by his snarling uncle.

“No, she would pull this trigger herself,” Thorin lunged for Keeper. Dwalin cussed as he watched his friend shoulder the weapon and scramble onto the roof of the Rhosgobel. “To relieve other mothers of disappointing sons.”

Thorin’s face lit up half manic as he pulled the trigger and Dwalin had to move quick to shield his eyes. He barely waited for the shot to clear before he reached up, unseeing, to plant his fist in Thorin’s shirt front and yank the stupid cunt down before he could brain himself on a low hanging bit of tree.

The flair of the rocket arced over the three transport that followed them - _allowing Dwalin to catch a glimpse of Nori, weapon at the ready, two cars back_ \- before it impacted with the body of one of those fucking Wargs. The resulting explosion provided enough light to show that there were more Wargs chasing them - _at least five more_ \- but, by the sound of it, the one taken out might have taken another vehicle or two on it’s way to oblivion.

There were cheers from some of the lads in the other vehicles - _the younger ones_ \- but Dwalin ignored them.

“You little shit!” He roared into Thorin’s face even as he hauled the crazed man off the roof of the moving vehicle. “You know this worm spawn! You know what he does to you and you’re playing right into his hands! He wants to turn you into a reckless, crazy fuck, and you’re letting him!” Still gripping Thorin by his shoulder and the front of his shirt, Dwalin gave Thorin a solid shake. “DO NOT make me the sane one of our fucked up family!” He gave Thorin another rattle, enough to thump Thorin’s head against the frame of the vehicle, and finally saw his friend’s eyes clear up a touch. “I don’t do gentle!”

“None of us do,” Thorin’s laugh was a bit breathy, but Thorin’s smile was as sharp and vicious as any of Nori’s blades.

“Where do we go?” The sound of gunfire increased behind them - _the sound of bullets bouncing off metal different enough from the sounds of it piercing metal to snag at the edges of Dwalin’s attention_ \- but Dwalin kept his attention on Thorin and demanded the same in return. “No reinforcements! No shelter. No sanctuary they can’t follow us to!”

“Keep running. Head east and fight them off.” Dwalin knew the words by the shape of Thorin’s mouth and the vibration under his hands - _the sounds whipped away by the chilling wind before Dwalin could catch them_ \- but Thorin’s eyes were moving, searching unseeing even as he spoke.

Thorin was thinking and if he didn’t have a plan yet, he’d have one soon and that was enough for Dwalin.

“I’ll be adding this to my very long list of TARFU conflicts you’ve dragged me into, Durinson.” He loosened his grip on Thorin and relieved his friend of the rocket launcher as he spoke.

“I knew there was fire in you, still, Thorin,” Mágol’s voice was disturbingly delighted.

“You’re welcome.” Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes. His smirk was back in place, though, and his answer was for both of them.  

Dwalin let loose another bark of laughter. “Let’s light ‘em up!”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Word passed from Balin to Bofur - _and by the hard look Bofur shot Kili as he passed him, he was still more than a little upset_ \- and then from Bofur to Dori, who drove the vehicle behind them. Kili turned his head into the headlights and squinted to see Bofur signing - _his second round of the message, it would be repeated a third time for accuracy_ \- into the headlights.

“What’s going on?” Bilbo’s voice - _hoarse and breaking and he’d barely even begun to use it_ \- rose next to where Kili stood at the turret. The Shireling was still frowning - _had been since Kili’s outburst_ \- but at least that furrow in his brow was gone now.

Bofur had already explained that when the fighting started, Bilbo would have to move to the driver’s cabin with Balin, but the news was more of a relief for Kili than anything else. They - _because he’d not seen a proper battle any more than Bilbo had, if he was honest with himself_ \- had seen more action in the past twenty four hours than Kili had in all his time at the academy. Kili was ready - _eager_ \- for the violence that was coming - _he could feel himself nearly vibrating already_ \- but not at Bilbo’s expense.

He opened his mouth to answer the older man, but the com crackled to life again.

“Ah, but you’ve gone quiet now, Thorin.” That dumb fucking voice and its stupid smug attitude was in Kili’s ear again and the youth felt his blood boiling hotter and hotter with each word the shit-eater uttered. Everything in him wanted to answer over the coms again - _to put that scum-sucker back in his place_ \- but Uncle was likely furious enough as it was. “Maybe the child is willing to speak with me again.”

Kili felt ice slide down his spine - _turning his hands clammy, even if his heart was still racing_ \- and he whipped around to look ahead, searching for some glimpse of his uncle.

He was twenty now - _an adult by even Shire standards_ \- and not some child to go running to his mum at the first sound of a thump from the shadows. He had too much hate for Azog Mágol - _Defiler, killer of a grandfather and uncle he had no memory of, killer of his father_ \- to have any room for fear, but even the most seasoned of soldiers knew when they were out matched. He was glad that the bastard had spoken up, Kili was too angry - _terrified_ \- now to even think of speaking over the coms again.

He was able to meet Uncle’s eyes - _just for a moment_ \- and he saw the steadiness that was ever present there. Uncle was solid, immovable in the same way mountains were. Nothing could bring him down.

Uncle nodded to him - _a reassurance and admonishment together_ \- and Kili felt something settle within himself.

“Well, Master Boggings,” Kili turned back to Bilbo, making sure to grin for the older man. “You know about Azog Mágol, don’t you? The bastard that helped Urulóki kick us out of Erebor? He’s got something of a twisted crush on Uncle Thorin and that was his voice on the coms just now.”

“Something about the fire in that one, it’s familiar to me....” The laughter in the corpse-fucker’s voice had Kili itching to punch - _or shoot_ \- something , anything. It was like the man was making small talk in a waiting room. “I wonder.... Thorin, is he the dark haired child? The one that looks like you.” There was a pause and Kili was painfully aware of just how dry his mouth was. “The resemblance between the two of you is terribly strong.”

Bilbo startled and shot Kili a questioning look similar to the one Fili liked to use.

Kili tried to smile for him again, but he could feel that his mouth was stretched too wide to be the comfort he meant it to be. There was a buzzing in his head - _in his whole being_ \- though, and all he could focus on what the dryness in his throat and how angry he was. It was anger, not fear. He was angry.

“Don’t know how he did it,” - _talking was good, it kept Bilbo informed and and kept Kili from grinding his teeth like Uncle was so fond of doing_ \- “but I bet Ori or Bifur does. The point is, the coms are compromised and we can’t risk using them, but we need to make sure that everyone knows what the plan is. Luckily, we have hand sign.” Kili tried a smirk on for size and was pleased to find that it fit better. “With the headlights, the drivers can read the signers, who then pass the message along to their own signers to pass along behind. Takes a bit longer than coms, but it works.”

There was a change in the rhythm of the gunfire and the high whine of one of the cycles warped into a teeth-grating screech just before the sound of two crashes reached them. Kili wasn’t able to keep from cheering, but Mágol’s voice was over the coms again and Kili’s flash of relief was doused.

“Thorin... is he one of Dis’ children?” The buzzing in Kili’s head got louder. He noticed, distantly, that he could feel it in the tips of his fingers now, as well. “That would make the blonde your other nephew, of course. The eldest heir, by my guess.” Laughter flooded the coms. Kili desperately wanted to throw up. “Oh, Thorin, you are up to something important, aren’t you? But what could be so important that you would risk bringing your sister-sons with you?”

Kili couldn’t move. The vehicle they were in bounced over something and he nearly lost his footing, but still he couldn’t move. He wanted to cry, he wanted scream or break something, but, instead, he stood frozen in the bed of the Rabbit and focused everything he had on breathing.

“You really should have someone see to him, Thorin - the blonde one? It looks like whatever wounds he’s taken to his back are beginning to bleed through his shirt.” Mágol sounded concerned, actually concerned - _not mocking or cruel or..._ \- and Kili couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. “Tell your medic to set down his assault rifle and check the boy over. My men will wait.”

There was a moment - _the space of a single, long heartbeat_ \- when Kili could’ve sworn his heart stopped.

Every guise, trick, and precaution he and Fili - _the whole company_ \- had picked up over the years to be sure they weren’t bringing any danger home - _Remember, lads, it may seem like great fun to travel around with the company, but you’ll bring down danger on more than just yourselves and your watchers if you’re careless. There’s your mother to think of, too, you know_ \- was now useless.

Mágol knew, now. He knew everything.

They were exposed now, vulnerable. Everyone was. Family, the company - any and everyone who had ever lent them a helping hand, knowingly or not. Mum was at home, only three of Oaken Shield One to keep her safe, but Fili - Fili was at the tail of the convoy and injured.

No, Kili managed to shake his head. It was a bluff. Mágol was bluffing, he had to be. He had looked over Fili’s back before they’d been run out of the base. Fili had taken shrapnel damage, but nothing that should bleed through the bandages that Oin had wrapped him up in. Fuck, they had taken worse scrapes tripping over their own feet than what Fili sported on his back right now.

But Fili was at the end of the convoy and they were already trading fire with the Wargs in range. Fili was good, but what if he had been hit? It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t like they could say that over the coms, not with Mágol listening in right now.

And Uncle! All it had taken was one comment - _a handful of the right words_ \- for Uncle to break bearing and react to Mágol’s taunting. The enemy wanted them moving on instinct, wanted them too busy reacting to figure a way out of this mess. If he and Uncle were playing into that bastards plans now, what -

Bofur gave Kili a rough slap or two to the back. “Head games,” he shouted, looking at Bilbo. “He’s trying to fog up your head.” The older man shook his head. “It’s all hot air, just ignore him.”

Kili nodded mechanically.

Beside him, Bilbo shifted the rifle cradled in his arms and exhaled shakily. It struck Kili suddenly, how odd it was to see quaint Master Boggins holding a  weapon. It was wrong in a way that Kili didn’t have words to describe. There were ORCS - _Mágol_ \- here, though, and he couldn’t help but be glad that the older man had something to protect himself with.

“And what’s the message, then?” Bilbo offered a - _painful, tight_ \- smile, but it didn’t half reach the Shireling’s eyes.

“We, uh.” Kili licked his lips and shook his head. He was cold, he realized. Cold enough to shiver. When had that happened? “We head east. We send up flares as soon as we break the tree line, then our lead takes a hard right and lights up the mongrels on our tails.”

Bilbo nodded again and Kili looked over to where Bofur was finding his seat again. Bofur already had his machine gun strapped across his back, but he was taking the time to check the flare gun over and sort out where he was keeping its ammo. It took a moment to realize that the look Bofur was shooting him was pointed - _not sharp, but pointed, and the thought made Kili snicker_ \- and another to realize what Bofur was wanting him to do. It was fortunate that he caught the look, though, Bofur wasn’t afraid to make his reprimands as embarrassing as possible, no matter perilous conditions or veiled threats to family.

Kili forced himself to move away from Bilbo and over to the machine gun turret that he’d practically begged Bofur to let him handle earlier. It was a bit harder to talk to Bilbo like this, but he at least he was able to ready the equipment as he spoke.

“My brothers and sister in arms.” Mágol’s words were full of pride and delight and Kili shut his eyes as tight as he could. “Allow me the long awaited pleasure of introducing you to the heirs and sister-sons of our Thorin Durinson. Kili, brunette, in vehicle two and Fili, blonde, in vehicle four. Bring them to me...” Kili shook his head - _no, no, no_ \- “Alive.”

He could hear the automatic shotgun being fired again, the sound mixing with the rapport of an assault rifle, and when Kili finally opened his eyes, Bilbo had turned to look behind them. He was frowning hard enough for that worry wrinkle in his forehead to show and was clutching the rifle even closer now.

“Fili?” Bilbo didn’t bother wasting the energy to shout, only mouthing the words at Kili after he had the boy’s attention.

“He’s fine,” Kili pulled himself up on the turret’s platform and forced himself to believe his own words. He stopped himself from glancing toward the tail of the convoy - _from straining for a glimpse of his older brother_ \- but it was a near thing. “He’s on the auto-shot, the tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.” He spared a strained grin for Bilbo. “Oin’s with him. He has an assault rifle, too, just like you. Bombur’s driving - he’s a steady hand!” - _he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine_ \- “Fili’s fine.”

Bilbo nodded and then motioned toward the vehicle to their immediate rear. “Who’s behind us?”

“Bifur on turret,” Kili patted the machine he was standing over and felt his voice crack on the words. “Ori has a carbine - like yours, but lighter. Nori has an assault shot - like Fili’s, but more ammo, no auto.” He paused to lick his lips. His lips were chapping. “Ahead of us,” he nodded his head to the front of the vehicle, “is Uncle -”

The steady sounds of gunfire were interrupted by the shattering of glass, quickly followed by metal crashing against metal and a satisfying crunch.

Kili whipped around, craning his neck to try to see how many Wargs might be left, when he felt a hand on his arm. Bilbo had moved closer to him - _too close, would’ve been injured if the turret had been active_ \- and was giving him that horrid look - _lips pressed together, jaw clenched, eyes all stoic and pleading like he didn’t want to tell Kili what to do, but he was incredibly concerned and would rather Kili not do that please_ \- but, before Kili could react, there was the pop and hiss of a flare being launched and the blinding light that always faded to a haunting glow.

Kili let out a wild - _hysterical_ \- laugh as he watched the vehicle ahead break away to the right. He spun around the other way to see that the Wargs chasing the convoy were already beginning to fan out, but Uncle and Dwalin opened fire and one of the enemy transport fell immediately. A flare went up from the vehicle behind them and Bofur fired another as well, and a quick count told Kili there were still five Wargs active. Uncle and Dwalin managed to damage one of them before those remaining opened fire and Uncle’s vehicle had to start taking evasive maneuvers.

One of the Wargs took up the chase after Uncle’s Rabbit, but the rest seemed determined to keep nipping at the company’s heels.

Kili bounced on the balls of his feet and gripped the hand holds of his turret to keep himself in place. The wind felt colder now that they were out in the open - _sharper_ \- but the path was just as rocky, if not more so, and there was no sign of moon or stars overhead, either. With everything else and the terrain such a big unknown, Kili was beginning to feel a bit nervous.

At least it wasn’t raining.

Kili was trying to catch Bofur’s attention, just barely registering the high whine of another cycle, when he caught the sound of rapid fire from a carbine, followed quickly by a crunch and the absence of the cycle’s whine. Ori’s laughter was just loud enough to carry over the rush of the wind and Kili whooped with pride.

Ori had made his first kill and taken his first bullet wound both on the same day. Dori must be having a fit, but Kili couldn’t be happier for his friend. He’d have to be sure to remember the date so that they could celebrate properly later.

The roar of Gundabad Wargs got louder then and Kili swung the turret around, a snarl of a grin on his face. The vehicle jolted hard in the next moment, though, nearly knocking him off his feet - _Bilbo tumbled to the floor_ \- and only his tight grip on the turret allowed him to keep his place. He opened fire as soon as he thought the Wargs were in range and felt a visceral satisfaction at the sound and sight of his ammunition tearing gouges into the sides of the enemy transport.

Kili’s whole world narrowed down to noise and motion.

The vehicle he stood on jumped and bucked and swerved beneath him and he was grateful to have the turret to cling to. He was able to hold himself upright by the machine’s grips, even if he nearly brained himself on it more often than not. There was shouting from Bofur behind him and Kili thought he heard gunfire from the other vehicles, but the roar of his weapon drowned out any other noise and the rattling of the machine shook him down to his core.

A tinkling sound - _glass shattering_ \- cut through the din at some point, though, and everything seemed to slow down.

Kili was aware of Bofur crouching behind him, laughing and cursing, his voice nearly lost in all the noise. The minor vibrations that Kili had felt before had stopped and Kili knew without looking that Bofur was taking a moment to reload. To Kili’s right was Bilbo - _tucked behind Balin’s seat_ \- half curled over his weapon and clinging to the railing like it was a lifeline. The Shireling hadn’t fired his weapon yet.

Kili could pick out the thunder cracks that signaled a rocket launcher being fired and the vibrating roar of another machine gun turret in use. He could pick out a mix of rapid popping from the auto-fire weapons and lower, deeper cracks from a tactical shotgun. He thought he could hear snippets of a high voice, sometimes - _Ori_ \- and he was half aware that he was yelling, too.

Movement at the corner of Kili’s eye caught his attention for a heartbeat. One of the Wargs further back had rammed into the last Rabbit - _Fili, Oin, Bombur_ \- and ORCS were jumping over to engage in hand to hand. Off to his right - _only visible because the Rabbit had it’s headlights on_ \- two vehicles - _Uncle_ \- exchanged weapons fire with each other away from the rest of the convoy.

All of this was at the fringes of Kili’s consciousness, though, because most of his attention was focused on the Warg alongside their Rabbit, his target. He was aware of how the glass glinted as it shattered, the pieces sparkling in the eerie light put off by the flare even as they bounced on the hood of the vehicle. He could clearly see the four ORCS within the Warg, each in full uniform and battle mask. The front seat passenger had caught most of the Kili’s ammo - _still alive enough to twitch and spasm_ \- but each of the others looked at least injured as well. The driver had taken damage mostly to his right arm. His mask was cracked as well, enough that Kili could see part of his face and his - _red, glittering, unnatural_ \- eye. Kili swore that the ORCS driver met his gaze for a moment, but reality came rushing back in and everything was chaos once more.

He didn’t become aware of time again until he realized that they had two Wargs flanking their vehicle.

“Ah, so there is another new member in your unit, Thorin. He doesn’t seem like he’s from the same stock as your usual recruits, though. And he’s certainly not fond of his weapon, is he?”

The ice that had slid down Kili’s spine earlier was making a reappearance. He let up on firing his turret, looked around wildly and, finally catching sight of Bilbo, shoved the older man into the driver’s pit with Balin.

Bofur was gripping Kili’s wrist in the next moment, pointing him back at his turret even as he ran a reassuring hand through the younger man’s hair.

“He’s not as young as the others, either I think,” there was speculation in Mágol’s voice, but amusement, too, and Kili wanted desperately to punch something. “Tell me, Thorin, what possible reason would you have for bringing a middle aged civilian with you?”

The left. The Warg on their left was different, heavier armor and it seemed to be having an easier time navigating the rough terrain. That had to be Mágol’s ride.

“He must be vital for this operation, but what’s your objective?” Mágol almost seemed to be speaking to himself, now, but his words were coming so much faster. “What’s your goal, Thorin? What would be worth the risk of bringing someone so useless into a situation so difficult to defend? You’ve always been so careful in your movements, Thorin - each step measured, each piece of equipment multipurpose and in it’s prime... except for this one, this anomaly. There’s only one reward I can think of that might make you so negligent.” There was a pause and then the monster sounded both hopeful and pleased. “Thorin, are you finally coming home?”

Kili turned his turret on the Warg to his left and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could. He didn’t think - _his thoughts felt numb_ \- he didn’t scream or snarl or cuss. He just lay down fire as thick and as heavy as he could, adding to the already loud chaos of noise.

“Oh, is little Kili is feeling a bit defensive, now?” The laughter in Mágol’s voice wore a sneer. “You spoil him, Thorin. I can’t imagine how else the brat might get it in his head that interrupting another is anything but rude.”

Mágol’s Warg began to pull away - _enough that Kili could see how depressingly little damage he was doing_ \- and Bofur shouted something, voice high and strained. The vehicle rushed back at them and Kili braced himself for the impact, but the Rabbit under his feet lurched and bucked and he bashed his face into the turret before he could stop himself. The horrible screech of metal on metal - _the ORCS on either side were trying to squish the Rabbit between them_ \- seemed to last forever before the sound let up, but the reprieve only lasted a moment before their Rabbit was slammed again from both sides.

The pain in Kili’s face was distracting, but not enough to signal that he’d broken anything. The scream of the vehicles grinding against each other seemed to harmonize with the pain, though, and the floor was trying to jerk itself free from beneath his feet every other moment. Kili slid to the floor of the platform, hoping that sitting would be safer than standing, and thanked his luck when he saw the tail end of their vehicle fish tail back in forth in what - _he hoped_ \- was a deliberate move. What Balin’s purpose was, he wasn’t sure, but Balin always knew what he was doing.

“Do you forgive your uncle for sending you to an early grave, Kili?”

The sound of Bofur’s voice rose above the roar of the wind and gunfire once more. Kili was surprised to see the older man suddenly on the platform floor beside him, pressing himself as flat as he could. Kili looked over his shoulder at Mágol’s vehicle - _windows up, still grinding the side of their Warg into the side of Balin’s Rabbit_ \- and then moved his gaze - _his own movements felt so slow, so sluggish_ \- to look at the Warg grinding their right side.

The one with their windows down and their weapons being pointed directly at Kili and the ducking Bofur.

Kili blinked and time righted itself again. He threw himself flatter against the floor and wrapped an arm around the base of the turret - _hoping it would keep him somewhat grounded_ \- just as the horrible clang of metal on metal became his world.

Pain and molten fire lit up his right leg and then his left shoulder - _the arm he was using to hold tight to the turret_ \- but then there was the crunching sound of one vehicle impacting with another and the hail of bullets stopped. The vehicle under him swerved back and forth wildly and the horrible screech of three vehicles grinding into each other abated. The roar of gunfire still remained, somehow quieter than before.

Kili wasn’t even aware that he was yelling until Bofur shook his shoulder.

“To your post, lad!” Bofur’s breath fogged up the air in the small space remaining between them. Kili’s cheeks felt numb and he could barely feel the turret beneath his fingers. “You’re doing great, but we’re not done yet! Back to your post!”

Kili wanted to cry. He wanted his mum or Fili or Master Boggins, but he knew that Bofur was right. He knew that he couldn’t stop yet and he struggled to make himself start moving again.

He gasped when he pried his arm free of the turret base. His head felt light as he pulled himself up on his feet again, but the burning in his leg already felt more distant. He clung to the turret and tried to make himself see his surroundings once more - _the unobservant die first, the thought wore Nori’s voice_ \- but he felt as if he were moving through a fog. The vehicle to their right was gone, but Dori’s vehicle wasn’t behind them anymore, either. The heavily armored Warg - _Mágol’s_ \- was still to their left, but wasn’t grinding into them anymore and -

The thought was interrupted by the Rabbit bucking up violently and Kili’s chest hit the machine he clung to with enough force to wind him, possibly bruise his ribs - _punishment for not minding his surroundings_ \- but not so hard that he didn’t see another Rabbit pulling up on their right. In the back of it, stood Dwalin and Uncle Thorin.

Kili struggled to suck in the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Uncle stood at his turret, strong and sure as he ever was, and Kili felt seven years old again, freshly woken from a night terror and desperately in need of the safety only Uncle could ever promise.

Uncle signed quickly - _“hold position”_ \- and sent a look - _“I’m here, you’re safe, no tears”_ \- and Kili knew everything would be okay. The look faltered, though. There was a wildness growing in Uncle’s eyes - _something Kili couldn’t name, even if it put his heart in his throat_ \- but, before he could put any further thought to it, he felt someone grab the crown of his head in a brutal grip and then there was only pain and darkness.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Dwalin was sure that his day could get worse, but he didn’t want to tempt the Valar by asking how.

Gloin pulled them up alongside Balin’s Rabbit. Bofur and Kili were both visibly injured, their uniforms stained with blood that looked more black than red in the unnerving light that the flares cast. Kili, especially, looked miserable - _more lost than Dwalin had ever seen him look_ \- with blood streaming down his nose, clinging to his turret like it was the last solid thing in the world. It was enough to send a shiver of fear running up Dwalin’s spine.

Dwalin could count the number of times he had gone ice cold with rage on one hand.

Normally, Dwalin’s anger was something that warmed his blood and set fire to his spirit. Countless times it had been the only thing available to keep him from freezing until the sun rose the next morning. Seeing Mágol climb out of his pampered fucking fortress, for example, gave Dwalin enough anger to keep him nice and toasty despite biting wind.

Then there were times, like now, when Dwalin knew a rage so cold that he swore his heart could freeze solid.

He watched the kin-fucker vault onto the vehicle that separated them, watched him reach for Kili to bash the boy’s head into the body of the turret, - _an effortless action, if the sadistic grin the bastard wore was any indication_ \- then leap over the railing, to launch himself into a flying tackle pinning Thorin down. Mágol swung a rifle off his shoulder and rammed its butt end into Thorin’s gut in the same fluid movement, all before either he or Thorin could properly react to his arrival.

That was when Dwalin felt a deep and freezing rage consume him.

Dwalin lunged at Mágol in an attempt to pry the bastard off his shield brother, but the lurching and shifting of the vehicle meant that he nearly brained himself on the railing, instead. He recovered in time to see the stock of the weapon arc through the air and come down on Thorin’s temple in a crack that Dwalin could hear even over the roar of the wind and nearby gunfire, and then change directory to come at Thorin’s throat.

Thorin, true to form, brought up his hands in time to not only deflect the blow, but to catch hold of the weapon and pull the trigger, as Mágol still held on.

Mágol cried out and Dwalin was more than a little satisfied to see what had to be blood leaking from the offended ear. Dwalin knew exactly how much of a bitch it was to have the muzzle of a gun discharge directly next to one’s ear, especially in the middle of a fight.

Mágol tried to yanked the rifle away, but Thorin was never one to give up easily and the two rolled across the floor of the bed, each fighting for control of the weapon. Mágol managed to pin Thorin again - _Dwalin had Grasper and a gift of lead at the ready if the bastard would just hold still long enough_ \- his hand tangled in Thorin’s short hair somehow and near all the weight of his legs on Thorin’s as he yanked the weapon away from Thorin, and then shoved his elbow into Thorin’s temple.

Dwalin did fire, then - _a stupid, risky action, but standing by and doing nothing while that abomination got the upper hand was too painful to consider_ \- but the shot flew wide and he cussed enough to make any soldier blush.

Somehow the full ramifications of Mágol having the weapon must not have ever registered to Dwalin. It couldn’t have, because it was only when he saw Mágol press the barrel of the rifle into Thorin’s lower gut that Dwalin even considered that he might be about to witness the gruesome death of his brother in all but blood.

The gun never fired - _it never sounded with the thunder crack that would have changed Dwalin’s world irreparably and forever_ \- but it wasn’t until later that it occurred to him that Thorin must’ve flipped the safety into place. The confusion only bought Thorin a moment’s opportunity, but he didn’t let it go to waste. Thorin got ahold of the rifle’s barrel and shoved its heel back into Mágol’s face. He used the momentum of the blow to throw Mágol off from over him and get his feet back under him.

The Rabbit under their feet bucked and lurched again and Azog lost his footing before he could find it. Thorin was quick to throw a fist, but Mágol deflected it away, so Thorin reached for the rifle again, instead. They struggled for control over the weapon once more, but for the moment they were evenly matched.

Dwalin readied Grasper again, wanting to be prepared for when the opportunity to shoot this bastard presented itself, when a spatter of gunfire startled him back into awareness of his surroundings. The Warg had rolled down its windows when he was focused on other things - _Nori’s voice was in his head, amused and taunting, ‘The unobservant die first’_ \- and he was suddenly staring down the barrels of handful of carbines. Dwalin ducked behind the machine gun turret and returned fire, but not before he took a grazing shot to the hip. He snarled and focused his attention on the offending gunmen. It didn’t take much to get them to hide behind their bullet proof windows again, but, even as he turned back to where his friend was fighting, he could see that Mágol had already swung their battle locked dance so that Thorin’s back was all Dwalin could lock on to.

Neither of them were willing to release their hold on the weapon long enough to strike the other - _and Mágol was too adept at keeping Thorin between them for Dwalin to be able to position himself behind the bastard_ \- but Thorin - _always a clever fighter_ \- managed to get in a few well placed knees to Mágol’s ribs. Mágol’s grip faltered long enough for Thorin to smash the weapon into the other man’s face, but only once before the Rabbit lurched violently once more.

All three of them knew the joys of weightlessness momentarily before they slammed back down on the floor of the weapons bed again and the rifle - _now free of both sets of hands_ \- flew over the railing and out of sight.

Dwalin twisted about - _trying to find out what manner of fuckery they were dealing with now_ \- and roared with rage and frustration to see a Warg - _Mágol’s own padded chariot_ \- fall back a handful of feet, only to surge forward and ram into the backside of the their Rabbit again. He opened fire on the enemy vehicle, but the windshield didn’t so much as crack and he couldn’t afford to waste ammo for long.

He turned his attention back to where Thorin and Mágol were still locked together to find Thorin doubled over and Mágol standing over him, a sadistic, triumphant grin warping his face.

Dwalin was quick to raise his rifle so that Mágol was in his sights again, but a new spatter of gunfire from his right forced him to duck for cover.

Dwalin wanted to curse, so he did. That same ass-wipe of a Warg had angled itself so that he had exactly two options. He could trade bullets with them, risk leaving Thorin without cover, and hope that his new position didn’t garner him any new wounds or he could grant his friend the cover needed and hope that he was able to take the damage long enough to make the shot on Mágol.

The most frustrating part, though, was that he was no longer young enough - _he’d always be reckless enough_ \- to get away with throwing his life away for Thorin’s. Thorin was going to make it through this battle and he’d need Dwalin in good enough shape to stand at his side. If the worst happened - _it wouldn’t_ \- and Thorin fell, then the Company - _Dis’s sons_ \- would need him even more. Which meant that he held his position and returned fire with a bunch of low ranking, piss drinking ORCS as he was forced to watch Mágol half throw Thorin over the back of the Rabbit’s ass and on to the hood of the Warg behind them.

Which happened to be the exact moment that Dwalin felt his heart lurch to a stop.

Dwalin would realize that he was yelling later only because of how sore and abused his throat was the next day, but at the time he didn’t care what sounds he made, he didn’t care how fast the vehicles were moving or where they were headed to, and he most definitely didn’t care about the hail of gunfire that those Orc cunts were still laying down.

Thorin was gone. Taken. Not with the company. The thoughts repeated themselves over and over in his head even as Dwalin lunged for where his friend and the walking corpse were closest. The bastard Mágol had followed Thorin onto the hood of the other vehicle and already the distance between the Warg and Rabbit was growing. Dwalin stopped himself from trying to jump the distance - _only just barely_ \- bellowed wordless rage out at Mágol - _who was pulling a blade free from his belt_ \- and dived for the cabin of the Rabbit.

“Fall back!” He snarled, startling Gloin. “That fucking ass rag has Thorin!”

Gloin cussed and slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “What the fuck happened?” he motioned for Dwalin to seat himself even as he dodged around an ugly bit of rock. “What the hell is Thorin doing?”

Dwalin sat himself down, ignored the question, and twisted around so he could keep Thorin in his sights. He opened a channel on the coms. “The bastard has Thorin. Watch for Mágol’s wheels.”

No one voiced response, but Dwalin knew that he’d been heard. He searched through the supplies stored under the seats - _frantic_ \- until he found a set of night vision goggles and an extra scope. He cussed again when he looked back.

“Hard left!” he barked at Gloin. “They’re headed North!”

Gloin swore under his breath and the machine they were in bucked and rattled, but it was only a matter of moments - _too long_ \- before the Warg in question was back in their sights. “North? What’s North?”

Dwalin clenched his fist, but didn’t dare lower the sight. “Gundabad.”

The pair of them - _Mágol and Thorin_ \- were on the hood of the ORCS vehicle. Thorin looked to have the upper hand, at first, having pinned Mágol on his back on the roof of the cursed transport, but the bastard still had that knife in hand - _long and serrated_ \- and Thorin looked to be devoting his attention to avoid being stabbed.

Gloin sent their vehicle in a wide arc and Dwalin shifted to keep the pair of them in sights.

Sure enough, Thorin had one hand around the grip of the blade aimed at his gut and the other holding his weight up. Mágol only had one hand on the blade and Dwalin slammed his fist down on the console when he saw why. Mágol’s other arm was wrapped around Thorin’s neck. He was drawing Thorin closer even as Thorin fought to push away.

The Warg bucked beneath the two of them, sending them both scrambling to keep from sliding off the vehicle. Mágol used the opportunity to flip the pair of them so that he loomed over Thorin now, pressing the blade down upon older man. Both had a solid grip on the hilt of the blade once more and their arms shook as they struggled against each other, but either Thorin had taken more damage than Dwalin had noticed or his strength was failing him, because the blade - _slowly, but surely_ \- bit into the meat of Thorin’s shoulder.

Even from this distance, Dwalin could see the pain Thorin was in. He tried to take in every detail he could that might help Oin later - _serrated blade, seven inches, no obvious rust or poison, left shoulder, close to the joint_ \- because there would be a later and as soon as Oin told him that Thorin was fine, he was going to rip his favorite idiot a new asshole for scaring him like this.

Ahead of them the Warg bounced over a grouping of rocks. Dwalin watched as Mágol’s blade sunk in that much deeper and felt something inside him break.

“Blood feud be-damned,” he snarled. He grabbed his rifle, climbed free of the vehicle’s cabin and snapped the scope to Grasper even as he braced himself on the frame of the cabin as best he could. There was no hesitation as he targeted Mágol - _an easier target now that Thorin wasn’t in the way_ \- and no pause as he squeezed the trigger.

On the other vehicle, Mágol flinched and straightened - _a grazing wound to the back, wrong reaction and not enough blood for a direct hit_ \- mouth opening in what Dwalin damn sure hoped was a pained cry. Mágol yanked his blade free of Thorin’s shoulder with the movement and Dwalin did wince at that, but Mágol was making an even prettier picture now that he was sitting up higher, so Dwalin didn’t hesitate to squeeze the trigger again.

The second shot hit Mágol’s left arm, right through the meat of his forearm, causing him to release the blade, which then bounced out of sight. Thorin slammed his fist into Mágol’s gut - _even as Dwalin struggled to not collapse in relief that the weapon posing the biggest threat to his shield brother was now gone_ \- grabbed the younger man’s shoulders and rolled them over once more - _close enough to the edge that Dwalin felt his heart lurch again_ \- slamming Mágol’s head off the roof hard enough for Dwalin to see the bastard’s skull bounce even from this distance.

The attack didn’t even phase the bastard, though. Mágol swung the both of them back over so that he was looming over Thorin again, never mind that the action had them sliding down so that they were on the windshield of the blasted Warg now, and drew his fist back again.

From the corner of his eye - _not as slow this time, old man, you’re improving_ \- Dwalin caught the movement of the Warg’s windows rolling down once more. He was able to duck back into the safety of the cabin just before they opened fire.

Gloin swerved away, but, even before Dwalin could roar at him to close in again, Gloin was leading them back in at an angle awkward enough that the ORCS would have a hell of a time catching them in another hail of bullets.

By this time Mágol had already dragged Thorin back to the roof of the Warg, looming over him, his hand on Thorin’s shoulder wound. Thorin’s face was a snarl of rage and pain, but he struck out at Mágol’s injured arm and then higher. Mágol flinched - _a cracked rib, maybe_ \- before baring his teeth in a vicious smile and backhanding Thorin across the cheek.

Mágol repeated the blow twice more before reaching down - _the motion could’ve been called a caress, Dwalin wanted to vomit_ \- and wrapped his hand around Thorin’s neck, using his hold to pull Thorin semi-upright. Mágol’s lips were moving, but whatever bullshit he was feeding Thorin was lost to the wind, because Dwalin couldn't tear his eyes away from Thorin’s face, which was steadily turning a darker and darker shade of red.

“Get ready to pass him a weapon,” Gloin’s voice was harsh with glee, startling Dwalin’s attention away from the fight. “I’ll have you in reaching distance in another minute. You just make sure you have something ready for him to grab onto.”

Dwalin glanced around the cabin and his eyes fell on the blade that Thorin had picked up at the base ruins. Dwalin grabbed it and left the cabin, bracing himself between the rail and the turret, and readied himself.

When he was close enough, Dwalin called out to Thorin, again and again until Thorin turned his eyes toward him.

The impact between the Rabbit and the Warg was enough to throw Dwalin off balance, but Dwalin kept enough composure to press the hilt of the blade into Thorin’s hand. Seeing his hand close around the hilt of that blade - _the same style and make that killed Frerin_ \- was more reassuring than Dwalin had the words for.

Seeing Thorin plant his foot in Mágol’s gut, seeing him kick the bastard away - _using enough force that the piss-drinker nearly staggered off the nose of the car_ \- was satisfying on a visceral level.

Thorin didn’t leave it at that, though. He all but jumped to his feet and brought the blade across Mágol in a motion that Dwalin almost didn’t catch. It was the icing on the fucking cake.

Mágol didn’t react. He stood there with wide eyes and gaping mouth as Thorin swung the blade again and caught the perfect angle to sever Mágol’s left arm clean through at the elbow.

Dwalin blinked. There were a hundred different things he could be doing at that moment to help - _to end Mágol_ \- but he stood there, transfixed, watching every detail of Mágol’s arm falling onto the hood of the Warg and then bouncing off the side. He watched as Thorin was coated with blood, as Mágol clutched at the stump where his arm used to be and then fell to his knees.

Dwalin fully expected, then, that Thorin would dive for the Rabbit and they would then bug the fuck out of there, because the number of ways that the previous day - _and a half_ \- had gone to shit was without number by this point, but Thorin was still focused on Mágol.

“Thorin!” Dwalin bellowed.

The ORCS managed to find the right angle to open fire again and Dwalin knew they didn’t have enough time.

“THORIN!!”

Thorin wasn’t moving. Thorin stood over Mágol, the fucker’s throat under the sharp sword point of the 0-Crist, and spoke to the piece of trash he held at his mercy. Dwalin couldn’t hear what Thorin said over the rush of the wind and the gunfire that was still being aimed at them - _and if that prick didn’t get his ass into the Rabbit before the end of Dwalin’s next five-count, Dis would hear every sordid detail of this fuck up before dawn_ \- but what ever he said put the ghost of a smile on Mágol’s face even as the mongrel answered.

Whatever that kin-fucker said nearly shut Thorin down completely. There was still hatred for Mágol in Thorin’s eyes, but there was confusion, too, and - _slowly_ \- a growing, desperate horror.

Later, Dwalin would remember this moment and wonder what it was that Mágol had said to shut Thorin down so quickly - _not more than a handful of words_ \- but at that moment Dwalin was more concerned with making sure that Thorin survived.

Thorin wasn’t moving and Dwalin couldn’t wait any longer - _couldn’t risk that they wouldn't be able to slip this close again_ \- so he reached up, made sure he had a solid grip on Thorin’s arm and yanked his shield brother back into the Rabbit.

He shoved Thorin into the Rabbit’s cabin before he turned back to the enemy and opened fire, but Mágol slipped over the far side of the vehicle - _controlled, pulled in through the window_ \- before Dwalin was able to level his weapon properly on his target.

He ducked down into the cabin behind Thorin - _already peeling away the layers of Thorin’s uniform to try to get a more accurate idea of the damage he’d taken_ \- but Thorin sat limply in the passenger’s seat. His gaze was half lidded and his breathing so fast and shallow that, for a moment, Dwalin feared Thorin might have gone into shock.

Out the window, Dwalin was able to see Mágol’s Warg fleeing north, driving at speeds their rabbits might have trouble keeping up with. The other Wargs flew by as well, quick to follow as Mágol limped away.

“Running back to Gundabad with their tails between their legs,” Gloin snorted. “How bad is it?”

Dwalin could feel the Rabbit beginning to slow. He sighed and finished bandaging Thorin’s shoulder, bringing Thorin’s forearm across his stomach. “Thorin? Thorin, look at me.” He turned Thorin’s face toward him and waited for their eyes to meet. “Hold your arm here, okay? Do you hear me? Are you with me?”

Thorin nodded after a moment, but his eyes were still distant.

Dwalin nodded as well. “You need to keep your arm still. Can you do that?”

Thorin blinked, slowly, and nodded again.

Dwalin wasn’t convinced that Thorin fully understood - _his breathing was still too fast_ \- but when Dwalin pulled his hands away, the injured limb stayed where he’d put it.

“He’s taken more than his recommended daily dose of lead,” Dwalin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “The shoulder wound is ugly, but he’s seen worse. I’m thinking he’s concussed, though, the way he’s reacting to everything.”

Gloin laughed. “You mean something’s finally sunk through that thick skull of his?” Gloin shook his head. “Throw a plaster over it and let him take a nap and he’ll be back to his normal majestic self.”

Dwalin grunted and rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother even trying to smile. He hated it when Thorin was like this. Dis was likely to kill him and Thorin, both.

It wasn’t until Gloin cussed that Dwalin realized they had stopped.

“What?” The word was harsh as he scanned the horizon, but Dwalin didn’t have enough left in him for niceties. If the Wargs were making their way back, there was a very real chance that they wouldn’t see sunrise.

“Fuel’s out,” Gloin sighed, sounding about as exhausted as Dwalin felt. “We’ve been running on vapors for the last ten minutes or so.”

Dwalin let his eyes close for a moment and let his shoulders slump in relief.

“Do we try the coms? Risking sending out our position?” Gloin was uncharacteristically hesitant and Dwalin couldn’t blame him. Using the coms was the fastest way to reach the rest of the company, but Mágol had already proven that he could to tap into them, and just because Mágol was deathly injured didn’t mean one of his flunkies couldn’t do it.

Dwalin shook his head and scanned the horizon. “I can see them, they’ve made camp just head, using a bunch of rocks for cover.” He felt the first smile in ages curl his mouth. “You up for a bit of a walk?”

Gloin barked out a laugh. “Sure, it might be nice to stretch my legs a bit after all that driving.”

Dwalin managed a grin and bumped his shoulder into Thorin’s carefully. “And what about you, princess?”

Thorin’s eyes flew up to meet Dwalin’s and he blinked.

“Ah, that got your attention, didn’t it?” Gloin snickered as he climbed out of the vehicle, and Dwalin took a moment to move back to the weapons bed of the Rabbit and hop out as well.

Gloin had the passenger side door open for Thorin, but Thorin was still in his seat. His lips were moving now, though, and it was enough for Dwalin to hope that maybe Thorin wasn’t as concussed as he’d first feared.

Between the two of them, they got Thorin out of the Rabbit and on his feet, but there was no way he was going to be able to walk on his own. Dwalin swung Thorin’s good arm around his neck and wrapped his own arm around Thorin’s back so that he was half supporting and half dragging his best friend.

“Ach! You’ll spoil him rotten if you keep babyin’ him like this,” Gloin’s words were taunting, but distracted. He had Dwalin’s assault rifle in hand and his head turned back and forth as he continually scanned their surroundings. Dwalin had passed the night vision goggles over to him so that Gloin could cover them better, but Dwalin was feeling terribly vulnerable without them

“Can’t help it,” Dwalin chuckled. “He’s such a delicate thing.”

Thorin didn’t react this time, but Dwalin pushed on as if he hadn’t noticed.

Silence fell over the three of them and it was hard to say how much time had passed. The sky overhead was heavy with clouds and the wind - _still frosty_ \- had picked up again. There would be rain before the sun rose, Dwalin could feel it.

Despite the conditions, though, he was eventually able to make out three other Rhosgobel Rabbits, all pulled to a stop between several large, shear boulders. The moonless night made a head count from this distance difficult, but there looked to be one standing in the back of a Rabbit, with three more next to it. Another group of three was standing between the vehicles and someone in the last grouping - _three, maybe four people_ \- had a pin light held down low to the ground.

It took a few minutes more to finally get in proper visual range of the nearest vehicles and the damage Dwalin saw was more or less what he expected. Bullet holes and ugly gouges in spades, but he couldn’t see any flat or popped tires, and that was blessing enough. The Rabbits didn’t need to look pretty to function right and he caught himself praying that these vehicles still had plenty of fuel.

The company was properly in view shortly after that. Dwalin couldn’t stop himself from counting heads and looking for injures.

Dori, Balin, and Bombur were the three standing in the middle of the makeshift camp site and the lot of them didn’t seem to be injured that he could tell.

At ground level, but off to one side, sat Bifur and Bofur, the former holding the pen light pointed on the later while Nori - he was alive, the lucky bastard, and not too badly damaged - patched him up.

Furthest into the shelter of the rocks, Oin was in the bed of one of the Rabbits, hovering over someone - _Kili_ \- while Fili stood alongside, a hand fisted in the shirtsleeves of Ori and Baggins, both. Ori stood still, eyes open - _blank_ \- and lower lip trembling on occasion. Baggins was returning Fili’s grip - _biting his other hand_ \- alternating between watching Oin’s movements and lowering his chin to his chest.

A strangled sound came from Dwalin’s side and, in the next moment, Thorin was fighting to break free from Dwalin’s support.

Dwalin allowed himself a string of curses while he struggled to keep his friend from hurting himself. Of all the things that would bring Thorin back to reality, of course it would be the lads.

The scuffle caught everyone’s attention, but Fili was the only one to move.

“Uncle!” The lad sounded so small and lost at that moment that Dwalin thought his heart might break.

Fili dashed over to Thorin, but Thorin was fully set on making his way to Rabbit, to where Oin still stood over Kili, and Dwalin - _once he was sure that Thorin wouldn’t fall on his face_ \- let him loose.

Thorin paused when Fili reached him, long enough to look the lad over and touch their foreheads together in gentle affection, but pressed on to where Oin had stilled in his work. Thorin refused to release his hold on Fili’s arm, forcing the lad to follow him, but Fili didn’t seem to mind or notice and Dwalin only hoped the lad didn’t have any injuries there.

Dwalin forced himself to scan their surroundings - _his eyes lingered again on Nori and the slow blink he received from the smaller fellow eased his heart_ \- so as not to join the crowd around Oin. Their medic wasn’t as young as he used to be and, even without a barrage of questions, working under that kind of scrutiny had to be hell on the nerves.

Balin approached him - _he’d have to remember to tease his older brother later for how worried he looked as he looked Dwalin over for injury_ \- and bumped their shoulders together. The shorter man opened his mouth to say something when the coms crackled to life again.

“Echo One Four, this is Stormcrow, do you copy, over.”

Dwalin growled at the sound of Greyhame’s voice coming over the coms, but Balin only pressed his lips together into a firm line for a moment.

“Come in Stormcrow, this is Overlord, we’ve been compromised, over.”

“Copy that, Balin. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear your voice! I’m also pleased to inform you that this line is secure, once more - for the length of this communication, at least. How is the company fairing?”

Balin narrowed his eyes and flexed his hands, but his voice came out as cool and relaxed as ever. “All present and accounted for, although some of us are more worse for the wear than others. You have good news, I take it?”

“Excellent news, I should think, especially under the circumstances. A safe haven and fully trained medical staff awaits you at the following coordinates,” Greyhame’s voice was so pleased and smug that Dwalin felt his fists clenching with the need to punch something. “I’ll be on location when you arrive. You have my word.”

A glance to the side showed that Ori had already written down the string of numbers and letters - _where had the boy had been hiding the pen and paper?_ \- and Balin was nodding even if Greyhame couldn’t see.

“Roger that. We’ll be incomming as soon as health allows. Over and out.”

The coms went silent once more and everyone seemed to relax again. Dwalin cussed. Secure or not, it was damned stupid to use names out here.

“Milk drinking, willow waisted, beard shaving sissy,” he grumbled.

And if his growling didn’t make him feel any better, then it least it had Balin’s mouth curling into the start of a smile. Balin started to speak - _again_ \- but before any sound could escape, Thorin’s voice rang out.

“No!”

Dwalin was at Thorin’s side before he could think. Thorin was shying away from Oin now and Dwalin’s heart clenched at the sight of it.

“No, don’t wipe it off!”

“Mate?” Thorin’s eyes flickered briefly away from Oin - _towel in hand, in arm’s reach of Thorin_ \- meeting Dwalin’s for a moment before landing on Fili. “Oin needs to wipe the blood off, Thorin. You’re covered in it.”

Fili froze under the weight of his uncle’s gaze. His eyes - _wide with fear_ \- never left Thorin’s, even as he groped blindly for Baggins’ hand.

Thorin took a deep, rattling breath. “It’s _his_ blood.”

Dwalin felt his heart stutter. “Thorin, what did _he_ say?”

  
Thorin shook his head, another strangled sound escaping him before he looked back at Dwalin again, eyes haunted and confused in a way that sent cold fear shooting up Dwalin’s spine. “We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been more than two months since we posted the last chapter. I'm sorry that it's taken as long as it has, but I thank you, loyal readers and new alike, for continuing to follow our version of this story!
> 
> Be sure to tell us what you think in the comments!
> 
> (also, the Character Bio on Fili and Kili is set to be posted on the Tumblr page soon, for those who are interested!)


	15. Deep Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not always getting the wound that hurts the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier.
> 
> Please remember that all artwork (including locations and teasers) and chapters may be found here: (http://thedurinsdaychronicles.tumblr.com/), as per usual, as well as links to the music and any other bits and bobs we've accumulated.
> 
> No violence in this chapter, but there is the aftermath of violence (no gore, but a lot of mental trauma), just so that we're all aware.

Bilbo frowned up at the sky.

Today hadn’t been a very good day. Not at all.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t the day, but more the night that had soured everything. The company - _himself included, of course_ \- had almost been killed. Again.

And now it was beginning to rain.

Bilbo sighed and turned up the collar of the jacket he was wearing. At least it was only misting so far. That was something.

He glanced over at Kili - _still unconscious_ \- watching the boy’s chest rise and fall again. Oin had already declared that Kili would be fine with a bit of rest - _concussion, two bullet wounds, multiple bruises, how was he going to tell Dis?_ \- but the sight of the young man drawing breath after breath was reassuring in a way that the medic’s words weren’t.

Bilbo moved to brush the lad’s hair out of his eyes and frowned at the moisture already gathering on Kili’s face. Looking around at the others - _moving equipment and fuel from one vehicle to the other two_ \- he wasn’t sure he wanted to bother any of them long enough to ask for another blanket. Kili was already bundled up in two - _for shock, Oin said_ \- so it was a simple task to loosen one just enough to pull up and over Kili’s face to protect him from the rain.

A strangled, half desperate sound - _somewhere behind him_ \- had him freezing before he could set the blanket down and he was hunching in on himself - _shielding Kili_ \- before he could think.

But the sound had come from Fili and Bilbo knew - _despite the wild light in the blond’s eyes_ \- that when the blond latched onto Bilbo’s wrist, he surely hadn’t meant to be squeezing quite that tight.

Around them, he could feel that the rest of the company had stopped what they were doing. The sudden tension was thick enough to choke on.

“No.” Fili’s voice was shaking at the edges. “No, no, no, no, Mister Bilbo. Not his face, you can’t do that.”

Fili released Bilbo’s wrist and fixed the blanket, covering Kili up to his chin, before he pulled a cloth hat out of a pocket. He fitted it to Kili’s head and then pulled its brim down to shield Kili’s closed eyes. He eyed the set up for a moment before he nodded and turned back to Bilbo.

“Its bad luck to pull a blanket up over a sleeping person’s face.” Fili leaned his shoulder against Bilbo’s. His voice was soft and quiet and his eyes kept darting back to Kili’s form. Around them, Bilbo could hear the others returning to their tasks. “You only ever do that for the dead.”

Bilbo found his own breath stuttering in his chest and he turned wide eyes to Fili. “I didn’t know! No one - In the Shire, we don’t -”

Fili eyes were calm and kind again. He pulled away just enough to thump Bilbo’s shoulder with his own. “No harm done. With the hat the way it is, he’ll be enough protected until we can get him into the vehicle. Besides,” Fili’s more playful grin made an appearance, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “His face could do with a washing anyway.”

Bilbo tried to summon a smile for Fili and nodded.

He felt numb. It was just a superstition - _and a silly one at that_ \- but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had almost - _cursed? jinxed? doomed?_ \- hurt one of the people most dear to him.

He shook his head and turned away from Kili, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

He didn’t belong here. This whole mission had been dangerous from the start, but just his being here only seemed to be making things worse. He was untrained, inexperienced, and more scared than he had ever been in his entire life. He wanted to run, he wanted to turn back and run home - _ah, but home had never been truly safe, had it?_ \- and hide his head under his pillow and -

A hand on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts.

“Easy there.” Bombur’s voice - _attached to Bombur’s hand, no less_ \- was filled with the same gentle warmth that his eyes carried. “We’ve got all the supplies divided and we’re about ready to go. Do you think you’re up for a bit more travel tonight?”

“No. No, I don’t think I am.” Bilbo shook his head and tried to ignored the hysterics that lingered at the edges of his words. “There’s not much that can be done for that, though, is there?”

Bombur smiled a bit, but Bilbo thought the action only managed to show how tired the other man was. “That’s fair enough,” Bombur nodded. “And not a bad approach to the situation, either.” He gave Bilbo’s shoulder a comforting squeeze - _and Bilbo was suddenly reminded of Thorin’s face, possessive and angry_ \- and nudged him until he could see Dwalin and Bifur picking up Kili. “You’ll be riding with me, Bifur, Dori, and the lads. We’ll set you with Fili and Ori, if you don’t mind too much. Fili thought that his brother might like knowing that you’re near.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and nodded.

He was too exhausted and too numb to articulate why being close to the boys might be bad at the moment, and - _to be perfectly honest_ \- he didn’t think he could stand to be out of sight of either of them. Seeing Kili operating that monstrous machine, watching as he fought, had been a horrible thing, but not as half as horrible as seeing him injured, and even that paled next to watching what that monster of a man did to the poor boy. There had been long, terrifying minutes when he had been sure that Kili was dead, where - _even as he hoped and prayed and pleaded for the sweet boy to still be alive_ \- he had struggled to think of what he was going to do, what he was going to tell Dis...

“Hey, now.” Bombur’s soft voice brought him back to reality again. “Ease those thoughts up. For now, at least, yeah?” Bilbo nodded again for him and Bombur smiled - _warm and encouraging, even as laced with fatigue as it was_ \- for him again. “Let’s get you packed away, then, and be on our way?”

Bilbo nodded - _he was turning into one of those damned bobble headed figures that his cousin Drogo enjoyed collecting_ \- and allowed himself to be nudged and prodded into the back seat one of the vehicles. He gamely sat in the middle of the back seat, allowing Fili and Ori to crowd into him on either side, and handled the unconscious - _and surprisingly heavy_ \- Kili as gently as he was able.

He helped to tuck the blankets back in around the young man, but wasn’t able to stop the startle that moved through him when the vehicle started up again.

They weren’t even moving for a full minute when Ori starting speaking, voice low and soft in deference to the injured Kili, and Bilbo hummed and nodded along with the lad, even if he couldn’t say what it was he was going on about. He knew that Dori, Bifur and Bombur all sat on the bench like front seat, speaking quietly among themselves and that Fili was to his right, hands carding through his brother’s short hair while his eyes stared unseeing out the window.

Bilbo couldn’t have said just how long it was before he fell asleep, but later he would be grateful that what sleep he did get was dreamless.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Thorin was aware of the vehicle - _Rhosgobel Rabbit, don’t let Fili near the driver’s seat_ \- starting in the same way he was aware of the distant rumble of thunder and the closer sound of his friends speaking softly around him. His men weren’t quite as quiet as they thought themselves to be - _hearing the report Dwalin was giving the others was surreal and Thorin wondered if they’d even been in the same battle_ \- but he appreciated their intentions for what they were.

- _’Our brother.’_ -

He felt the vehicle lurch as it got moving again and  focused on the vibrations of the machine beneath him.

- _Brown eyes wide with surprise, an uncertain smile on the bastard’s face._ -

Thorin was long familiar with the aches and pains of his body. None of his injuries were so bad that he would do himself more harm than good by taking a moment or two - _and truly they were moments he desperately needed_ \- to allow himself to numb his own thoughts.

- _There was something open and vulnerable about the man kneeling before him, and Thorin could swear that he saw a flicker of fear._ -

He focused on his own breathing, on the texture and the flavor of the air around him as he inhaled - _steady count to three_ \- and then exhaled - _steady count to four_ \- before starting again. He could all but taste the rain in the air and he knew that they’d all be soaked by the time they reached whatever shelter they were headed for. It was misting at the moment and Thorin was glad that as much of the canvas frame around them had survived as it had. There were terrible gouges everywhere and one side was so rent that Thorin thought it was more holes than cloth, but any shelter was better than none.

- _’For my brother.’_ -

The rain - _the full brunt of it, at least_ \- would hit before the sun rose. They had left the compound - _Trollshaws, Bofur and Bombur had called them_ \- sometime after midnight. Thorin didn’t think it would’ve been his turn for watch yet - _it hadn’t felt late enough_ \- making it perhaps an hour after midnight when they started running. They had then proceeded to drive all-the-fuck-over Middle Earth - _perhaps passing another hour? or two? fighting always distorted his sense of time_ \- but sunrise was still several hours away.

- _’Our brother.’_ -

“Thorin?”

Thorin startled and jerked away from the hand suddenly in his peripheral vision. His eyes flew around the bed of the vehicle - _Rhosgobel Rabbit, don’t let Fili near the driver’s seat_ \- and he noted that Dwalin, Balin, Nori, and Oin were all in the back of this truck with him. He had the vague idea that Fili, Kili, Ori and Baggins were in the other transport, which left five of his company unaccounted for.

“Thorin.”

Blue eyes jerked back to Nori, who had been the one to extend the hand that had startled him just now. There was concern in the man’s eyes, but his smile remained relaxed.

It was a ruse.

The rest of were bunched up near the tail of the truck bed they were all huddled in, watching him in silence. Nori had the best reflexes of everyone present, and was the youngest as well. They had sent him to pull Thorin from his thoughts on the off chance that Thorin would forget himself and lash out. It was a precaution he had taken with the others after particularly gruesome fights, but it still had bile burning at the back of his throat. That they were wary of him, even for a moment....

Thorin cleared his throat to show they had his attention - _that same throat currently too tight to allow words to pass_ \- and gave a nod to get Nori talking.

“You’ve been muttering to yourself,” Nori’s voice was as low as it could be and still be heard over the roar of the wind. “You’re injured and won’t let anyone touch you and you’re muttering to yourself, Thorin.” Nori’s eyes glinted, and that was a feat in the sparse light they had available to them at the moment. Then again, Nori never did like anyone keeping secrets from him. “You said ‘our brother’.”

Thorin felt his breath rattle in his chest at the sound of those words. He felt his heart pound like it was trying to escape his chest and darkness crowd the edges of his vision.

“Thorin.” Balin’s voice this time, firm and clear. No judgement, only patience and expectation. “We need your report and Oin needs to look you over.”

Thorin dragged his eyes to Oin, and then to Nori and Dwalin, before meeting Balin’s gaze again. He nodded, grateful that his thoughts are numb for the moment.

“Blood sample.” He’d meant to start with when the Bastard skipped over Dori’s vehicle to reach him. His eyes had fallen on a patch of blood that stained his left thumb, though, and he had a sudden, urgent need for the others to save it before the coming rain would wash it away. “Need to take a blood sample, preserve it.”

Oin was closer now - _stumbling his way over, but the ride was still rough, even if they were going slower_ \- and he frowned before sat himself next to Thorin.

“Did he poison you?”

Oin’s words were... more suspicious than hesitant. All five of them knew that Thorin would have to be unconscious before he’d fail to report a possible poisoning - _once was one experience too many and he’d had his at the tender age of twenty_ \- but maybe that was the only reason Oin could bring to mind for Thorin’s request. Or maybe the older man was trying to fish an explanation out of him. He was damn manipulative when he thought his patients were hiding something from him.

So Thorin shook his head and gave his report. He started with the moment he first laid eyes on the bastard and tried to be as accurate as he could. He faltered near the end, though.

- _’Our brother.’_ -

He didn’t have enough breath to speak.

“Lad?”

Thorin blinked and looked up at Oin - the only one of them who’d ever had the nerve to call him that - before shaking his head and closing his eyes. Maybe it would be easier to say if he didn’t have to see their faces.

“I had him at sword point,” Thorin licked his lips. “I said - I told him, ‘for my brother.’” Exhaling was easier than inhaling, but he managed to draw in enough breath to continue on his second try. “He responded with, ‘our brother.’”

The silence was complete, but the tension was deafening.

Dwalin was the first to break it. “By the maker...”

Thorin nodded. That about summed it up.

“The best mind-fuck I’ve ever heard.” There was a sneer in Nori’s voice, but his eyes were still curious. “What made you believe that bull shit?”

Thorin looked away from Nori long enough to pull his armor off and his shirt over head so that Oin had a clear line of sight on his shoulder before he answered.

“Several factors. First, that a lot of the... things he’s said over the years make sense in the context that he knew that he was... related to... the royal line.”

- _’What was it like, being raised a Durinson?’_ -

“He wouldn’t be the first to know the value of a long con.”

Thorin shook his head. Words hadn’t been this difficult to use since he’d been in primary school and yet Nori was as fast to knock his reasons away as ever.

“His facial features, they -” Thorin broke off with a hiss and an ugly look that Oin ignored as he continued to clean out the wound. Oin motioned for Balin and soon there was more light for the doctor to work with. “He has the right facial structure. Father’s nose, his... his brow.”

“The Bitch wouldn’t have to fuck your father for that. A cousin could be enough, if she chose right.”

Thorin closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

How could he explain it? How could he tell them that he knew that Azog was telling the truth? Just as sure as Thorin was that Azog would never let his men kill him, he knew that Azog was telling the truth, he just didn’t have the words to convince them of it.

- _Because for at least three years after my mother died, my father fucked any woman willing to part her legs._ -

He took a breath and tried to squash the urge to lash out aloud. The exhaustion helped with that. After a moment, he looked back up at Nori. “I don’t know. Not for sure, but the opportunity was there - we both know it - and with all the convenient coincidences piling up...” He closed his eyes again. “I don’t want it to be true,” he ignored that his voice nearly broke on that last word. “But if we can get somewhere where we can test it... that will be hard evidence. That will be your proof.”

Someone pressed his shirt into his hands again and Thorin pulled it over his head mechanically. The armor he needed help with, but there were hands assisting him before he could ask. Those same hands ruffled his hair - _Dwalin, then_ \- before moving away.

Oin had his arm back in the sling before he could do much more and, with a gentle pat to his good shoulder, Thorin was left alone.

Thorin put his back to a solid bit of railing and tucked his chin down to his chest. He tucked his good arm across his chest, cradling the elbow of his injured arm, and focused on his breathing again.

He didn’t want to sleep, but he’d be damned if his body didn’t need some rest. If he could avoid whatever reaction his men - _friends_ \- were having to his little revelation for just a little longer, then he’d take that, too.

He fell into a bit of a doze and wasn’t able to tell entirely how much time had passed, but it felt like near dawn when the skies finally opened up on them. The rain fell heavy and steady - _from a hesitant drizzle one moment to a solid downpour the next_ \- but the wind seemed to have died with the coming of the rain, and for that, at least, Thorin was grateful.

Remembering that he still sat along the more open “wall” of their shelter, Thorin shifted himself across the way so that he was sat next to Dwalin.

“You’re looking like a half drowned cat, your highness.”

Thorin didn’t bother opening his eyes again after resettling himself. He didn’t need his sight to hear the teasing - _and concern_ \- in his friend’s voice. “Good,” he grunted. “Then at least I’m still prettier than you.”

Dwalin’s answering chuckle was more felt than heard, but Thorin fell back into his doze before he could hear whatever else his friend had to say.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Bilbo woke flinching away from the hand on his shoulder. His heart was pounding and his eyes were wide enough to water, but he was trapped - _bodies pressing in around him, pinning him down_ \- and he felt the beginnings of a shout forming in his throat.

When he realized that it was Bombur - _half twisted in his seat and a look of sadness and understanding in his eyes_ \- who woke him, that it was Ori and Fili to either side of him and Kili in his lap, he was able to squash down the shout and begin to slow his pulse.

“Why are we slowing down?” He hadn’t meant to say that - _wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, to be honest_ \- but he was grateful that he hadn’t made any more of a fool of himself for asking.

He relaxed as he listened to Bombur’s brief update - _the rain had come down hard, but they’d managed to keep their heading and were now running out of road_ \- and realized that the light he was able to see the others by was coming more from outside the vehicle than from within.

He glanced out the window - _dark clouds crowded the sky and water distorted his view of the landscape, though it wasn’t raining as hard as he had feared it would_ \- before reaching for his watch. The odd, clunky pocket watch that his father had given him for his twentieth birthday, the same one that never ran down and the very one he used to set the rest of the timepieces in his house by. He stroked the edges of the acorn that had been etched into its back before turning it to read its face - _seven in the morning, by the Valar, what a night!_ \- and tucking it away once more.

He wondered, as they finally came to a stop, if their destination would have hot water and a bath to soak his aching body in. He swore to himself that as long as he was properly fed and allowed a soft, dry bed that he would praise the Valar for whoever hosted them until the end of his days.

Climbing out of the vehicle - _and out from under Kili without disturbing the poor boy_ \- was a bit of a tricky feat, but Bilbo managed it without falling on his face. He lingered near to the boys while Fili gently woke Kili - _‘no worries, Mister Bilbo, he’s hurt himself worse tripping over his own feet’ and Fili smiles at him like he actually believes it while Bilbo tries to swallow down the bile in his throat_ \- and tried to take in their surroundings through the curtain of rain that seemed intent on soaking him through.

The state of everything, of everyone, was shocking. Both the vehicles were riddled with holes and deep gouges that made Bilbo’s breath catch in his throat. The tarp that covered the back of the other vehicle was little more than rags and Bilbo was half surprised that it hadn’t blown away yet. Everyone looked near dead - bruised, pale, haggard and sodden in a way that made it seem impossible that they were smiling and laughing not even twelve hours before.

Dori and Bombur didn’t look too bad - both soggy and disheveled, but no wounds that Bilbo could see. They exchanged a few quiet words while they redistributed supplies among the packs that still remained, and managed to share a smile despite the tightness that lingered in their eyes.

Gloin was heaping all their weapons together in a great pile and Bifur seemed to be divided between helping Gloin and digging something out of the vehicle cabins. Neither of them seemed too badly off, either, though Bifur was moving with a visible limp and Gloin was wearing a fierce frown, so perhaps they were more affected than Bilbo had first thought.

Fili, having coaxed Kili awake and out of the vehicle at last, half dragged his brother - _both of them declining any assistance Bilbo offered, the insufferable boys_ \- over off to the side and helped him to sit - _on a bit of rock so that he wasn’t wallowing in a puddle_ \- before he moved back to where Balin was fussing over the ruined tarp of the other vehicle. He spared enough time to ruffle Kili’s hair before he left his brother’s side and he held himself with enough ease that Bilbo might’ve thought him relaxed if he didn’t know the boy so well. He bore a handful of new bandages - _soaked through with rain water already, that couldn’t be good_ \- but nothing that seemed to impede his movement.

Balin... Balin looked tired. As exhausted and rattled as Balin must feel after all their adventures so far - _or as much as Bilbo imagined him to be_ \- he only spared a fond smile for Fili’s help before directing the boy’s actions and going back to his own task.

A tugging at his shirt broke Bilbo from his musings.

“A hand up, if you please, Master Boggins. I’m injured, not crippled.” Kili sat at his feet, words bright and playful as he reached for Bilbo’s own hand.

Bilbo hesitated, eyes tracing over a smile that was just a hair too tight and bloodshot eyes that seemed ready to close again. He looked over the stains - _dark and tacky in a way that had nothing to do with the rain_ \- that graced his upper arm and his right thigh, as well as the sodden, roughshod bandage wrapped around the crown of his head, and felt his knees weaken in a flood of emotions he couldn’t begin to name. He reached out a hand, when Dwalin’s growling voice had him freezing.

“You’ll keep your ass planted on that rock, unless you’re wanting me to shove my boot up it,” the words were harsh, but large man’s frown was more concern than anger. Or, that’s what Bilbo fervently hoped. “Your mum is going to be slitting my throat for letting you get scuffed up as it is. I’m not keen on her drawing my death out any more than she already will.”

Dwalin’s eyes were on Kili, not Bilbo, and the lad only made a petulant face - _and he must be so much more tired than Bilbo ever thought to leave it at that_ \- at the older man before he leaned his head against Bilbo’s hip and wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s knee. Bilbo gave in to the urge to card his hand through the boy’s hair before he could stop himself, but Dwalin only narrowed his eyes at Kili and spared a momentary - _assessing_ \- look at Bilbo before returning his watchful gaze to their surroundings.

Bilbo turned his own eyes to Ori, who was perched next to Kili, only to find the boy looking back at him, half asleep, waterlogged, and pouting. Ori’s gaze moved from Bilbo, to Kili, and then back to Bilbo, before he moved himself closer in an awkward shuffle - _amusing enough to make Kili snicker_ \- and leaned his own head on Kili’s soggy shoulder. The sigh the lad gave off was so pitiful it nearly broke Bilbo’s heart, but aside from that he seemed happy to remain silent.

“Five minutes.”

The words startled Bilbo out of his thoughts and he barely had enough time to glance at Thorin - _bruised, left arm bound up in a sling, and still covered in streaks blood that the rain had yet to wash away_ \- before Balin was speaking as well.

“We’re almost there lads. The  coordinates lead just beyond these rocks here. Maybe another twenty minutes or so on foot.” His tone was light, but he shared a look with Dwalin that set Bilbo on edge. “We’ve fashioned a stretcher for Bofur and we’ll need to send someone ahead to find our way,” he shared a nod with Nori, “but we’ll be able to rest soon.”

And with that Fili brought the stretcher over, helping Oin to shift Bofur onto the hastily made - _already sopping_ \- thing.

Bofur didn’t look at all good - his breathing was off and he shivered more than Bilbo thought was healthy. That he was terribly pale wasn’t anything good, either. Of course, that didn’t stop the injured man’s attempts at chatter.

“Ah, that’s a good thing. Well constructed, is it? I’ll not want to be dropped in my delicate state, you know, I’ve been shot.” Bofur’s taunting grin and teasing airs were belied by the way his voice shook at the edges and the whine that he couldn’t hide when he was settled onto the stretcher.

“Delicate state,” Bombur’s snort nearly covered the softly spoken apology that Fili offered his elder. “You’re lucky we’re in the middle of a mission or I’d put you in a delicate state.”

Bombur continued to threaten and growl at his brother, while Bofur answered with grins and groans that Bilbo didn’t think were entirely faked. Bifur stood nearby, eyes shuttered as he silently watched Balin and Bombur pick up either end of the stretcher. All the company looked concerned, but most were doing like Bofur and trying to laugh it off.

Bilbo wondered if that attitude was typical of  anyone from District Erebor, or if it was something specific to this company.

 

Once Bofur was settled and the packs redistributed, the lot of them began to move. The process felt awkward, stilted, but still every one moved with a surety that made BIlbo wonder how often they had done this before.

They managed to pick a path between the tall boulders that tried to block their way, as well as through the smaller rocks that Bilbo feared would have him twisting his ankle if he misstepped. The rain continued to come down as steady as ever and while Bilbo was grateful for the lack of lightning, he found himself wishing that perhaps they could’ve been a bit less wet as well.

The company moved slowly, with the stretcher and those carrying it in the middle of their odd marching line, then Fili and Kili before them and Ori and Dori behind. Oin, Gloin and Bifur seemed to be at the back, while Dwalin and Thorin lead up ahead. Bilbo, himself, walked just behind Fili and Kili - _‘so that I can see what mischief the two of you get up to, rather than just guess’ he’d told them with a scolding smile and it had been worth the effort to see Fili roll his eyes and Kili’s grin relax_ \- but he couldn’t catch sight of Nori.

“Boys?” Bilbo tried to keep his voice low. He knew that everyone was tense and tired. He didn’t want to cause any more distress.

Fili cocked his head to one side and started to turn his face toward Bilbo. Kili mirrored the action and hummed out a questioning sound.

“I’ve been counting heads,” he ignored Fili’s snort of amusement, “and I can’t place Nori. I remember seeing him when we stopped, I think, but I...”

And really wasn’t it silly of him? Everyone here - _even little Ori_ \- had far more experience with all this fighting and sneaking nonsense than he did, but he still worried. Being so far from home, with everything happening so far out of his control, he worried.

“No worries, Master Boggins,” Kili’s voice - _fond and amused, as always, if a touch strained_ \- was just loud enough to drift back to him. “Nori’s our eyes. He runs ahead to find the best paths for us, makes sure that they’re safe, and then returns to tell Uncle and Dwalin. See?”

And sure enough, up ahead Bilbo could see - _through a light curtain of rain_ \- the three men standing at the junction, heads bowed close together in conversation. Thorin nodded at something and moved to turn back to the rest of the group, when his foot slid out from under him. Bilbo had just enough time to gasp and then Thorin was on the ground, on his hands and knees in a shallow puddle.

Dwalin and Nori both blinked down at Thorin for a moment before Dwalin tilted his head back and laughed like Bilbo had never seen him laugh before.

Bilbo was quite glad for the reassurance that Dwalin could do more than sneer and scowl, and while he thought the sight was more than a little amusing - _as did Fili and Kili, if their shaking shoulders were any indication_ \- he wasn’t sure that laughing was the best response. It couldn’t be good for the other man to be putting weight on his shoulder like that.

The entire procession stopped at once and Bilbo was vaguely aware of some of the others moving to sit or rest. Bilbo longed to sit down again, but, as soaked through as he already was, he couldn’t bear to sit in the wet.

He watched as Nori shook his head and offered a hand to the leader of their company, only to lose his own footing and join Thorin in the puddle.

Fili and Kili, along with a good portion of the rest of the company, were finally laughing out loud. Dwalin gasped for breath now and Bilbo worried that they’d be hauling three overgrown children out of the puddle when Nori starting flinging mud at the bigger man.

The soft click was so out of place that Bilbo couldn’t help but search for its source.

Nearby, just out of reach, Ori stood with a camera. He paused to share a grin with Dori, who still stood beside him, then snapped another picture or three, this time of Dwalin helping his friends out of the mud. Ori took one last picture of the three men and then turned, taking pictures of the rest of the company as well. He even took one of Bilbo, wearing a cheeky - _if tired_ \- smile as he did.

“I’m documenting,” the young man offered. “Our journey, I mean. This is history that we’re making. They’ll write about us and put our actions down in textbooks and force kids to memorise the dates of the big things that happen and everyone will forget how real it was. We’ll forget how real it was, too.” Ori’s face was thoughtful as he spoke, wearing a soft smile. Behind him, Dori turned his face away. “We’ll forget all the details in a few years. We’ll remember how scared we were, but not the pain or the boring bits, not really.” He lifted the camera up, meeting Bilbo’s eyes again. “This will help keep it real. It’s our proof.”

Bilbo gave a nod and tried for a smile - _though he imagined it didn’t come out quite as he’d hoped_ \- before he tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.

Ori was a good lad - _a young man_ \- fresh out of university with a sharp mind and an insight into the world that few adults ever managed to achieve. How Dori could stand to have him here, where he was shot at and attacked and probably terrified, rather than at home, tucked away in the cupboard and wrapped in a layer or two of padding, was beyond Bilbo.

He felt someone move past him, then more of that clicking.

“Fili, give it back.”

Bilbo looked up.

“Give it back! It only has so much memory, you shouldn’t be wasting it with pictures of me.” Ori looked exasperated, but he was still smiling, at least.

Fili - _covered with more blood and grime than Bilbo had first thought_ \- lowered the camera, his own smile fading into a serious look.

“You’re real, too.” He murmured and handed Ori the camera back. Fili pulled the other boy in until they rested their foreheads together, an odd look in his blue eyes as he did.

Bilbo looked away quickly, trying to suppress a fond smile. He had wondered how close the boys might be with Ori, given how possessive they seemed to be of him.

His eyes landed on Kili, who was seated on a rock close to Bilbo. The young man wore a slight frown and his eyes were narrowed at his brother and friend, but he looked to be more lost in thought than upset, so Bilbo let him be.

“I hope you’ve all enjoyed your rest,” Thorin stood, covered in mud - _and somehow he looked less fragile now than he did before_ \- and wearing a reluctant smile. “We’re moving out.”

Bilbo looked back to the boys to see Fili helping Kili to his feet again, both of them already conversing in the silent, quick way that only they really understood. A quick glance back at Ori showed him hurrying to put his camera away, no worse for the wear.

The path that Thorin chose led upward and became even more difficult. Bilbo stumbled more than once, but he tried not to say anything. Some of the others were far worse off, after all. The walk felt like it took longer than Bilbo was sure it actually did, but eventually they came to a stop. Ahead, Thorin again conversed with Dwalin and Nori, only this time there didn’t look like anywhere else to go. They had reached a dead end.

“Greyhame says there’s a hidden passage here that will lead us through the rock. It’ll take time to find, so those of you who are injured, rest. Anyone able, help us look.”

Bilbo sighed - _tried not to groan_ \- and set his rucksack down near to Kili, who gave him a sullen look, but pulled the bag close.

Bilbo turned his attention back to their surroundings.

The stone surrounding them was tall and shear, cracked enough to let greenery climb its face, but not enough to allow the company the same. They were topped with even more greenery - moss and vines, what might be grass and the occasional tree. The trees that he could see were massive, thick things - _nearly as wide around as he was tall_ \- but none came close to the massive trunk wedged off to the side.

“You’re close to Greyhame, then?”

Bilbo startled and bit back a shriek. Heart racing, he pulled in a steadying breath and ignored Fili’s snickering.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m sure,” Bilbo arched an eyebrow, but smiled at the boy. “It’s just my nerves. I don’t know that they’ve ever been wound up so tight.” He ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “But you were asking about Gandalf, weren’t you?”

Fili nodded, leading them over toward the massive felled tree that had attracted Bilbo’s attention the moment before. “You’ve mentioned him before, in some of the stories you told us. I just never realized that your Gandalf was the one we call Greyhame.”

Bilbo nodded this time, eying the great tree trunk. “I’ve known him since I was child, he was a friend of my mother’s. A colleague.”

Fili hummed and moved to where the trunk of the tree met up with rock. “You wouldn’t happen to know how old he is, would you?” He paused long enough to throw a playful - _tired_ \- grin over his shoulder. “There are rumors that say he was old before the Great War started.”

Biblo snorted and tried to hide his grin. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know. He never celebrated a birthday with us, although he was present for a few of mine.” He paused to think. “Come to think of it, he’s always looked old to me.” Bilbo felt his grin widen. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he was older than dirt.”

Bilbo glanced over at Fili, only to see that the boy’s attention was focused on the treetrunk. He pulled his own attention back to examining the upper edge of the felled tree and continued to babble.

“Just think if he was born before the Great War, though. Why that would make him...” He paused to see if he could recall his history correctly. “That would make him easily more than two hundred years old! And that’s assuming he was born just before the war started.” Bilbo blinked and shook his head, summoning a fond smile. “Well, I hope I look half as good as he does when I’m a quarter of his age, if that load of nonsense -”

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Bilbo kept his voice low, glancing back at the others. Thorin was sitting again, Dwalin towering over him with a vicious frown, and Bifur and Bombur were resting as well, but everyone else seemed to be doing well enough and he didn’t see any signs of smoke.

“Smells like.... the ocean.” Fili muttered, running his hands over the dead tree. He frowned fiercely at what looked like an uneven, but otherwise unremarkable section of the ancient tree. Bilbo was taken off guard, in that moment, by just how similar Fili’s look was to Thorin’s own severe expression.

The Shireling was so lost among his own thoughts that he startled when Fili let out a soft bark of laughter.

“I think I found something!” The look that Fili flashed him was full of mischief and triumph and Bilbo was reminded of the near child Fili had been the first time Bilbo had taken him into home and fed him. But then he was moving his hands along that same stretch of wood he’d just been glaring at and - _before Bilbo could offer to fetch someone more knowledgeable to help him_ \- there was an audible click and suddenly Fili was pulling a part of the tree trunk up to reveal a passage.

“Ha!” Fili’s grin was smug like he’d just filched one of Bilbo’s scones without Bilbo’s notice and he spared a glance behind Bilbo at the others before darting inside while Bilbo stood gaping like a fool.

“Fili?!” What did that boy think he was doing? Creeping into a hidden place that held Valar knew what? Bilbo knew he had more sense than that.

Bilbo was moving to follow before he had a chance to think. The step up to get into the hidden space was higher than he’d have liked - _an odd knot of gnarled root and cracked stone_ \- but the inside wasn’t half as cramped and dank as he’d feared. There was a lever just to his left - _visible as his eyes began to adjust to the dimmer light_ \- and, to his right, Fili stood waiting. He reached past Bilbo as soon as the older man was fully in the passage and pulled the odd door near to closed.

“What -”

“We’ll explore it first.” There was just enough light, now, to make out the shape of Fili’s figure, but not enough to see the boy’s face.

It wasn’t often that Fili willingly did something on his own, whether Kili was able to follow him or not, and he couldn’t imagine leaving Fili to wander about on his own, so Bilbo nodded.

“Bright light.” The words were whispered just before a crack sounded and the hiss that followed came with a red, flickering light. Fili looked washed in blood and dancing shadows and Bilbo turned away from the haunting sight.

The walls of the strange passageway, those were safer to look at and interesting on their own. There were carvings everywhere - on the walls, on the ceiling, even on the floor near the edges of the walls. Some were words, written in a foreign script, but some may have been pictures, possibly pictographs.  He reached out to trace his fingers over the carvings briefly before he looked back to Fili.

“They’ll worry where we’ve gone.” He kept his voice low, though, not willing to spoil the boy’s fun before he’d had a chance to see it through.

Fili’s grin, which had faded some, grew genuine once again. “Then we’ll have to be quick about it.”

The journey to the tunnel’s end seemed to take ages. They moved in silence, or, in Bilbo’s case, as near to silence as they could conceivably come. The whole tunnel was carved, it seemed, and likely ages ago. Fili murmured something every now and again, about seeing Bombur’s face when the man first entered the tunnel. Fili thought that the passageway must be at least several hundred years old, but Bilbo couldn’t have said. The older man knew that it was old, ancient likely, but three hundred years or one thousand, he couldn’t tell.

The path was rather easy to travel, sometimes sloping up or down gently, but no sudden twists or turns and no steps to trip over. There was a whistling sound - _just a bit of wind_ \- and the tangy scent of brine in the air, which only grew stronger the further along they traveled.

Reaching the end of the tunnel came as a bit of a surprise to Bilbo. He held still at Fili’s signal and quieted his breath while the younger man listened at the door. There was a rushing sound beyond the ancient wood that they huddled in, a white noise that, paired with the whistling wind that still persisted and the heavy smell of sea water, made him wonder if they hadn’t found their way to the very edge of the world. Perhaps Fili would open the door at this end and they would find nothing but the ocean, spilling over into an endless abyss.  It was a half crazed thought, more than slightly fueled by hysteria, but he didn’t think that such a sight should surprise him anymore. Not after the night he’d had.

After what felt like ages, Fili pulled the lever and stepped out of the odd passageway, leaving Bilbo to follow.

The light was entirely too bright, but Bilbo was pleased to note that the rain had lightened considerably. He was grateful that the sky was still overcast. If his eyes were watering in this light, he didn’t want to entertain the thought of a clear sky.

When his eyes had adjusted enough, Bilbo looked to his surroundings. A long, wide beach stretched on to either side of him. Smooth and sandy, accompanied by gently lapping waves - it was picturesque, if you ignored the sheer, towering cliff faces behind them. Far to their left was what might be buildings, but Bilbo wasn’t quite sure about that.

He turned to Fili, wondering if younger eyes would have a better chance at working out what the shapes really were, only to see blue eyes fixed on the great mass of water before them, a mild, thoughtful frown on his face that Bilbo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on the boy before.

“I was seven when we came to Ered Luin the first time.” Fili’s words were soft and low, his eyes sweeping the waters for sight of something. “I still remember seeing the ocean for the first time, the smell of it, the sounds. I’d never seen anything like it.” He licked his lips. “We weren’t allowed to swim in it. It was winter, too cold. We left after the start of spring and I was so upset that we didn’t stay longer. I thought we’d never see it again and that I’d lost my chance to swim in the ocean.”

He paused, shifting his stance, before continuing. “We went back when I was eleven, because mum was sick. Kili and I, we were told that mum was staying so that she could get better, but that we couldn’t stay with her. Mum was too sick to keep traveling, too ill to look after her own sons, no matter how good we’d sworn we’d be.” Bilbo watched hurt and confusion and resentment flicker over Fili’s face before it smoothed out again. “We were on the far side of the mountains from the ocean when we left, but I could smell it so clearly. The brine and the dank.” His expression darkened and Bilbo saw, once again, Thorin’s face where his nephew’s should be.

Finally, though, the boy blinked and he scanned the ocean once more, before he glanced at Bilbo again.

“It doesn’t smell the same,” He murmured. “This is a better smell, cleaner.” He nodded and ducked his head a touch.

Bilbo leaned his shoulder into the younger man’s and kept his silence.

Dis and her sons had never really spoken about having to be apart. He knew that DIs missed them terribly, and that they missed her as well, but it wasn’t a topic they ever spoke of aloud. Maybe, if this shelter they’d been promised had a signal, he could patch something up so that she and they could talk. He was sure it would do them all some good.

Fili accepted the comfort for a moment or two, leaning some of his weight on the older man where their shoulders met. “We’d better head back. Uncle’s likely to skin me alive,” he confided with a grin.

Bilbo felt Fili pull away, but his attention had been grabbed by an odd shape down the beach to their right. He’d thought it was drift wood, at first, but the sun had found a break in the clouds and surely driftwood didn’t glint like-

“Corpse fucking sc-!”

“Fili!” Bilbo startled and whirled around to see what was going on, the admonishment out of his mouth before he had time to think about it.

A familiar chuckle answered, though. “I’m rather sure your mother would have a few things to say about your choice of language, young Fili.”

Bilbo continued turning and startled again to see Gandalf sitting on a bit of rock at the base of the cliff side, just out of their initial line of sight. He was dressed in loose, comfortable, grey-toned clothing and carried an umbrella. Using the cliff behind him for a back rest and with ankle crossed over the other stretched out before him, he looked like he was leisurely waiting for the bus to arrive.

 

“Gandalf?!”

  
The old man turned to him with a warm smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Bilbo, my dear,” he nodded. “Welcome to Rivendell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half months between posts again, but life is crazy and sometimes you have to put other things first.
> 
> The Location pic-set for Rivendell will be up very soon. Please let us know what you think! Your comments and questions feed our muses and leave me grinning all through the work day!


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